


Part I: Bonds Forged in Fire

by WinterXAssassin



Series: From Team To Family [1]
Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And they DO show emotions, Angst, As opposed to what we're lead to believe in canon, Blame the stupid NPC dialogue, Character Death Fix, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drama, Emile is a little shit, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epic Bromance, Epic Friendship, Even Mr. level-headed Jorge can be a little shit, Family, Family Drama, Family Shenanigans, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Halo: Reach, Heck they're ALL little shits, Hurt/Comfort, I hate it, I mean these are still HUMAN BEINGS, I'm Bad At Tagging, It was all Bungie's fault, Jun is also a little shit, Lots of headcanons used, Many character death fixes, Military, NO SERIOUSLY THOUGH, Near Death Experiences, Not Canon Compliant, PTSD RECOVERY, Post-Canon, Post-Fall of Reach, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-fall of Reach, Psychological Trauma, Science Fiction, Six is a little shit too, Spartans CAN cry, Spartans are surprisingly cuddly, Team Bonding, Team Feels, Team as Family, There would be something SERIOUSLY wrong with them if they didn't have emotions at all, and though I accept the fact that they all died, because I love Noble Team, headcanons, lots of hugging, man why the hell did i tag this as action, when there's only action in flashbacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-23
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2018-12-19 00:34:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 31,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11886180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterXAssassin/pseuds/WinterXAssassin
Summary: So, this is the first story of my new series set in the Halo universe, titledFrom Team to Family. It centres around Noble Team, a group of highly-trained Spartans - five Spartan-IIIs, and one Spartan-II -, who were deployed to Reach to defend the planet from the Covenant, and their adventures following Reach's destruction. A whole lotta family bonding will occur, 'cause I reckon these guys deserve to be one big, happy family...and quite a few shenanigans will ensue. It's Emile's fault, mostly. He seems to be the troublemaker of the pack.This is an Alternate Universe of my creating where all of Noble Team survive. Meaning the fact that they survived is a Thing. Please don't hate on mejustfor that fact alone. I didn't think the fact thatallthese new characters died after introducing them....I just hope I did everyone justice.





	1. Enough Dead Heroes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Chapter title taken from Halo: Combat Evolved, as quoted by Cortana to Captain Keyes; "Sir, with all due respect, this war has _enough dead heroes_."
> 
> Please note that this is HIGHLY CANON DIVERGENT. Meaning, a lot of things will either a) conflict with canon, or b) not be part of canon at all whatsoever.  
> Don't hate on me with reasons such as "oh, such-and-such didn't die" or "they couldn't POSSIBLY survive something like that", or "such-and-such wouldn't act like that". This is an AU, built up on a lot of headcanons, as well as the wild imaginings of my brain. Meaning that a lot of the time, the characters WILL BE OOC. Don't judge me on that, okay? It doesn't matter if they're OOC - these guys weren't exactly very developed characters in canon, and this is MY interpretation on how they think and how they act. If you don't like it, then don't read the story - simple as that! No need for any unnecessary hate.
> 
> Also, my Noble Six is female (which is already diverging from canon, as officially, Six is male), named Artemis Fox, and was created as a clone of the Master Chief by ONI. It's just my interpretation of how Six gained the same rating - hyper-lethal vector - as one of the greatest soldiers in history (well, for Halo, anyway). If you have a problem with it, fine. Just don't whine to me about it.
> 
> We good?  
> Cool!  
> So go ahead, read the story, leave a like if you enjoyed it, and feel free to leave a comment - just no hate, because that's mean, and I don't like dealing with mean people!

Olympic Tower (ONI HQ), City of New Alexandria, Eposz, Planet Reach, Epsilon Eridani system, August 23rd, 2552

Noble Team – or what remained of it, anyway – sprinted towards the fallout bunker, making conversation as they headed for safety. It was chaotic; the city was burning around them, and they _needed_ to pause and regroup. It was hard for any of them to gather their wits about them and concentrate, even for a moment. Yet even then, over the roar of nearby explosions, and the murmurs of speech, Artemis heard it.

She and Kat were lagging behind the other three – their elevator having been slower – and were straining to catch up, when the unmistakable sound of a Phantom’s engines whirring overhead filled her ears. And then, even more unmistakable still – barely audible as it was – was the sound of an Elite grunting as it cocked its weapon.

_Sniper. They’d been spotted. No time._

“Where does he get off calling a demolition op Priority One-?” Kat was in the middle of asking, when Artemis interrupted her, and anyone else from responding.

“Look out!” she shouted, shoving the other Spartan-III out of the way. The needle, which was meant for Kat’s head – a killing shot – hit her shoulder instead, eliciting a grunt of pain, the other woman nearly falling to her knees. In an instant, Jun, Emile, and Carter came out of their cover and lay down suppressive fire, which although had no effect on the Phantom and its occupants by way of killing them or damaging the craft, it thankfully discouraged them enough to the end that the Phantom flew away.

Artemis helped Kat to her feet, and half-pulled the other behind her as they ran the rest of the way to the bunker, Carter and Jun yelling at them to get inside. The automated doors slid shut behind them, and the Spartans all huddled around, sitting close to each other.

Kat was shaking, both from the near-death experience and the adrenaline rush it had given her, and the fact that Artemis had shoved her out of the way in order to save her life – Noble Six had nearly wound up getting shot herself. She took her helmet off and tossed it aside, revealing the sweaty sheen on her features – and were there tears, too? One quick swipe at her eyes confirmed that speculation, and indeed, it shocked her teammates...Spartans _never_ cried.

The others took off their helmets also, and settled in for a weary, sleepless rest; Jun, Emile, and Artemis all sent curious glances at their Commander and the injured warrior, and quizzical looks between each other. Evidently Carter and Kat were rather close, judging by the fact that the dark blue-armoured SPARTAN had gestured for the cryptanalyst to sit closer to him as he tended to her wound – and he was comforting her, too, if his low, oddly gentle tone was anything to go by.

Some hours passed, and by then, Kat had simply passed out from exhaustion and blood loss, her arm bandaged and head resting against Carter’s shoulder.

Rather close indeed.

Sure, Spartans weren’t averted to leaning on or sitting close to one another, but the fact that Kat looked ... peaceful ... as she slept, and the fact that Carter was relaxed enough to keep one arm around Noble Two as she slept – lest she flop over entirely.... there was clearly a _very_ strong bond between the Commander and the hacker.

“Boss,” Emile prompted, stifling his curiosity as he looked over to their leader, raising his eyebrows.

“What?” Carter seemed tired, almost unnaturally so. But then again, the death of Jorge, and the near-death of Kat...those would be weighing on him quite heavily. He was the leader of the team, and it was his job to take care of each and every member; the guilt would be doubled for him – perhaps even trebled, given the fact that it hadn’t been that long since he had gotten over the loss of the original Noble Six. His augmented, deep blue eyes were dulled with weariness, and there were dark circles underneath. Clearly, he needed a break...at least this breather was better than nothing.

“Just how close _are_ you and Kat, anyway? You seem pretty chummy to me.” Emile questioned, lazily spinning his kukri in his fingers; his other hand rested on his shotgun.

Carter’s eyes tracked skyward for a few moments, before looking back at the assault specialist. “To be honest, Emile-” that was already unusual, because it meant that he was revealing something personal, and _none_ of the Spartans ever did such a thing- “Kat, to me, is like the younger sister that I never had, I suppose. Out of all those I was teamed with when deployed on the battlefield, it was Kat I connected to first. I can never recall why – I’m sure she’d be more than happy to fill in the gaps – but ... I guess it’s always been that way, from the moment we met. I don’t know what it was about her...maybe her defiant air, or unquenchable curiosity ... either way, we just hit it off.” He shrugged his shoulders as best he could without disturbing the cryptanalyst, and closed his eyes, letting his head fall back against the wall behind him. “Always been that way, I guess,” he repeated, almost as if to assure himself of that fact more than anything else.

“Heh. Here I was thinkin’ that you guys were somethin’ else to each other, get what I’m sayin’?” Emile remarked, a knowing look in his eyes as he smirked at the Commander.

Jun snorted with amusement, and Carter cracked one eye open to fix Emile with a half-glare. “Now _that_ is the most bullshit thing I’ve ever heard, you crazy sonuvabitch. Get some rest, team; we’ll be outta here in a few hours.” he said gruffly, and it looked like Jun was trying to stifle his laughter at his boss’ unusual use of expletives in his reply to yet another one of Emile’s typical smartass observations.

“Aye aye, Cap’N’,” Emile snarked, clearly not done yet, but when Carter actually _growled_ at him, he suddenly decided that making marks on the floor with his prized knife was much more interesting than making wisecracks.

* * *

Landing pad of Sword Base, Babd Catha Ice Shelf, Eposz, August 30th, 2552

Exhaustion was now overtaking the entirety of the team’s remnants. They could hardly keep their eyes open, let alone _begin_ to think about entering another fight. But they knew that they had to focus now more than ever. They couldn’t afford to lose what little concentration they still had – the AI fragment that Artemis was transporting...they _needed_ to make sure that it got safely to the _Pillar of Autumn_ and well away from Reach – and the invading Covenant forces – as soon as possible.

Now, it was time for the team to part ways. None of them ever dared hope that they would see one another ever again. But that didn’t matter, because that was part of the job description of being a Spartan. Compartmentalization was key.

“Doctor Halsey, Noble Three will escort you to CASTLE Base.” Carter instructed, the sniper turning to him with a curt nod.

“I require no escort, Commander.” Halsey butted in, and it wasn’t quite a protest – more of a denial against the help than anything else.

But Carter wasn’t going to take no for an answer. There was no time to argue, and more importantly, Halsey needed the protection. “Jun, make sure _nothing_ falls into enemy hands. And look after Kat whilst she recovers.”

“I’ll do what’s necessary, sir... Good luck.” Noble Three replied, determination in his stance and voice, and firmness in his nod. He patted Kat on the shoulder, and began leading her to the Pelican which Dr. Halsey was already boarding.

“You too, rifleman,” Carter said curtly, walking up the ramp of the second dropship. Artemis and Emile jumped onto the back of the ramp after him, and moments later, both Pelicans took off, heading in different directions.

It was time. Endgame was here, and they _had_ to get the AI fragment to the _Pillar of Autumn_. Noble Six was perhaps their last hope, and Nobles One and Four were assigned to do whatever they could to protect her as she delivered the package.

Even if they had to give their own lives to ensure her safety. 

* * *

Somewhere above the UNSC shipbreaking yards, Asźod, August 30th, 2552

“Crevice to the east. Let’s go.” Emile said firmly to Artemis, his tone making it sound like he was denying the loss of the Commander. She nodded in response, and was set to move off, when, amongst the explosions – both on comm and close by – she heard it.

She held up a staying hand to the skull-visored assault specialist, and tapped her helmet just to make sure she wasn’t getting a patchy connection. But no, her COMM was working just fine.

So the grunts of pain, interspersed with panting and the occasional coughing fit – those were very real indeed.

Artemis turned to Emile, her stance and tone of voice showing that she was filled with confusion. “You hear that?” she asked softly, so as to not cover up the quiet sounds. When Emile showed no sign that he knew what she was talking about, she smacked him on the back of the helmet and told him to turn his own COMM back on – he must’ve turned it off so that he didn’t have to hear so much the explosions that marked the demise of their leader.

A few moments later, he clipped his shotgun to his back, and stepped closer to the ridge, peering down. “What the hell...crazy bastard’s still down there.” he muttered in disbelief. Artemis peered down as well, and she shook her head.

“Damn, he’s stubborn alright,” she remarked, “Still...as much as we have a mission to complete...we should go get our Commander. We can’t just leave him like that.”

“I was wrong about Kat being the scary one,” Emile snorted, but he wasn’t objecting. He jumped down the ridge, sliding in an almost out of control freefall – he only stopped when he reached a ledge that was more than halfway above the wreckage.

Noble Six joined him moments later, and they stared at the cliff face, trying to work out where their Commander was now. It didn’t take them long to spot the blue-armoured Spartan climbing up the cliff an inch at a time...they could see he was beaten and bleeding everywhere. How he was still alive after all that, they didn’t know.

More important right now, though, was saving the Commander’s ass and getting the package to the _Autumn_.

The Spartans waited until Carter had climbed up close enough before pulling him the rest of the way up. They nearly dropped him as they reached the top, and so all fell backwards and landed in a tangled heap, the Commander grunting as Emile squashed him.

Artemis was the first to get up, and she shoved the assault specialist off their leader before helping them both to their feet. “So, now who’s the crazy sonuvabitch, huh?” she questioned, hands going out to steady Carter, who was standing on unsteady feet. “’Cause last time I checked, you said that was Emile. But he ain’t the half-dead one here, now is he?”

“Funny,” Carter said gruffly, his voice laced with pain. “We should...” He stopped to let out a hacking cough, and shook his head, shoulders slumping.

“Get moving? Yeah, already thought of that. C’mon Boss, we’ve got your back.” Emile butted in, steadying the other man. His loyalty was shown, then – he wanted their leader alive and well just as much as Artemis did; even though the blue-armoured Spartan would slow them down, they didn’t care. If it meant that Carter lived to see another day, than it would be well worth it.

Together, moving as one, Nobles Four and Six supported Noble One, and began the slow, painful trek towards the awaiting _Pillar of Autumn_.

Thankfully, it wasn’t _quite_ as slow going as it would have been on foot, because they hadn’t gotten very far before Emile found them a Warthog. The assault specialist insisted on driving, but since Carter was too weak to man the machine gun, and the package needed protecting, it was decided that Noble Four would use the turret, whilst Artemis drove, and Carter tried not to slip into unconsciousness in the passenger seat.

They made much better time, though Artemis didn’t push the Warthog to its limits – she didn’t want to jostle Carter and cause him any further injury.

* * *

UNSC shipbreaking yard, Asźod, August 30th, 2552

Artemis watched in horrified disbelief as the Phantom shot down one of the Pelicans, and she dodged out of the way as the crashing gunship landed near her. She scrambled to her feet, and whirled, eyes widening with fear as she saw the Covenant ship heading straight for the MAC gun that Emile was manning.

 _No. NO! Those bastards aren’t gonna take one of my brothers-in-arms. Not after..._ She shook her head, banishing thoughts of Jorge’s sacrifice, and sprinted up towards the platform where the mass driver was located.

The assault specialist let out a war cry, his shotgun smashing the window of the control box of the Onager, before firing it a second time at an advancing Zealot-class Elite, destroying the alien. “Who’s next!?” he shouted, loading another round into his favoured gun.

Heartbeat pounding in her ears, breaths coming in shallow pants, Artemis barely had time to scream a warning to Emile as another Zealot snuck up behind him, this one brandishing an Energy Sword.  “ _BEHIND YOU!!_ ”

She was so close, _so close_ , and yet she still felt too far away as she watched Emile turning almost too slowly, unsheathing his kukri just as the Elite lunged forwards, ready to stab the Spartan, and end him right then and there. “I’m ready! How ’bout you?!” Emile practically snarled at the bipedal creature, stabbing it in the neck before it could even so much as _touch_ him. Both warriors tumbled off the MAC platform, and Artemis could hear the sounds of the fight continuing.

Straining as fast as she could, she raced up the steps of the platform, just in time to see Emile standing triumphantly over his deceased enemy, wiping the blade of his kukri on the Elite’s head.

“Hah. That’s what you get when you mess with a Spartan. After all, payback’s a bitch.”

He sheathed his knife, and looked up as Artemis approached, before slumping against the railing in weariness. It was then that Noble Six noticed her teammate was bleeding from one arm, and there was a gash in his chest armour that looked particularly nasty, as well.

“You can’t-” Artemis began to voice her protest, but Emile cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“Utilize the mass driver? I noticed. I _can_ however, protect Carter. So get your ass up there and defend the _Autumn_ whilst I make sure nobody kills our boss.” the assault specialist responded firmly, and Noble Six nodded, climbing up the ladder of the stationary MAC gun.

Now it was _her_ duty to defend the cruiser like her life depended on it.


	2. Pieces To A Puzzle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only warnings for dorky Spartans, bossy Spartans, and kids being...well, kids.

Fields near the shipbreaking yard, Asźod, August 30th, 2552

_It’s over. That’s it. I’m done. Goodbye, Noble Team. My second family. I’ll see you soon, Jorge._

Artemis tore off her damaged helmet – it was of no use to her now, because the visor was far too cracked to see out of – and grabbed her MA37 where she’d dropped it, firing on the surrounding Elites in one long spray of bullets.

But it wasn’t enough.

The shots only took down the Elites’ shields, and they simply darted out of the way before they could take damage, and their shields recharged. Still they charged at her, plasma weapons firing, growling at her in their native language, intent on killing her.

_Don’t miss me too much, guys. I won’t be alone up there, at least. And you’ve got each other – that counts for something._

Closing her eyes, Artemis braced herself for her imminent death, still firing at the Elites.

Nothing happened.

Instead, she heard the unmistakable sound of an SRS99-AM Sniper Rifle, accompanied by the equally-recognizable sound of an M392 Designated Marksman Rifle, and she opened her eyes again to see that the Elites were all toppling over around her, dead.

And not one of them had gotten close to her enough to deliver a killing shot.

Suddenly feeling weak, she collapsed in a heap, no longer able to stand, let alone fire a weapon. Her assault rifle dropped from limp hands, and she lay there, panting, feeling the blood seeping out of her body.

Even though the Covenant in the area were dying all around her from some unseen ally, it did not matter. Artemis was probably going to bleed out before her would-be rescuers saved her from death. She managed to roll onto her back, and stared up at the dark red sky, and simply smiled, clutching Jorge’s dogtags in her hand. She would be joining him soon; that much she knew.

Strangely, though, she did not see the burning skies of Reach before she passed. No, instead, there was a familiar figure standing over her, dressed in olive green armour, and his hand was reaching out to her.

He was talking to her, saying _something_ , but she was too far gone to be able to understand.

And then there was another Spartan standing over her; both armoured warriors pulled her to her feet and half-carried, half-dragged her towards a waiting Pelican. Her head lolled forwards, and her eyes slid shut, but not before she saw two – wait, _three_? She could no longer count – more armoured figures waiting in the back of the dropship, looking at her.

That was the last thing she knew, before passing out.

* * *

“She’s gonna make it, right?” Emile asked, glancing around at his teammates. They could all see that Noble Six was in a bad way – worse than Carter had been when he had escaped the combined wreckage of the Pelican and the Scarab.

Said other gravely wounded Spartan opened his eyes to glance at the assault specialist, and he shook his head, shrugging. “She’d better. She saved pretty much all of our lives. We owe her that much, at least.” he half-growled, and then his eyes slid closed again of their own accord.

“She might not have saved my life, but I’m rather fond of our new Noble Six,” Jorge said quietly, passing a medkit to Kat, who was doing her best to patch up Artemis. “She’s a good kid, and I know it would still hurt to say this, but...even though no-one can take Thom’s place, she got pretty damn close.”

Emile thumped his chest as a sign of respect, nodding. “Hear hear to that, big man. Pilot, how far out are we from Camp Hathcock?”

“Shouldn’t be more than fifteen minutes, sir,” the pilot replied, and at those words, the other Spartans allowed themselves to relax, even if only slightly. Time was on their side, at least for now – there was a chance that Artemis would make it.

Noble Team had survived against all odds.

* * *

Camp Hathcock, Highland Mountains, Eposz, August 30th, 2552

“Jorge, Jun, do a perimeter sweep; when you’re sure it’s clear, get yourselves out of your armour and take a damn break. Emile, go get de-armoured and get some shut-eye. Move, Noble – consider that an order.” Carter instructed, and though his voice was firm, nobody could deny the undercurrent of exhaustion they could all hear. None of them disobeyed the order, however much they might have wanted to; the three aforementioned Spartans filed out of the room in utter silence.

It was only then that Carter tossed off his helmet and slumped into a nearby office chair, letting his head loll backwards, which gave him a nice view of the ceiling. “Please tell me we have a big enough barracks here for six Spartans,” he muttered to said roof, rather than directly to his second-in-command, who was watching him with concern; though he couldn’t actually _see_ that, he knew her well enough to know that she would be.

“We do,” Kat assured him, fiddling with a datapad. “You should take a break yourself, Commander. You’re in a worse state than most of us here…not to mention you’re in dire need of a good night’s sleep.”

“I can’t. Somebody’s gotta-” he paused and gestured to the sleeping Noble Six, momentarily losing his train of thought. He only continued when he managed to pick it back up again. “Watch over the rookie. And I just… I feel like I owe her, but at the same time I don’t. Y’know? So it’s gotta be me and not anyone else. Besides, I’m team leader; it’s my job.”

“You’re not the only one who owes your life to her,” Kat gently argued. She fell silent for a few minutes, obviously in deep thought, and then added, “How about we take turns keeping watch? You can get some rest here in the meantime…but at least take off your armour. That cannot be comfortable for you.”

“Yes _Mom_ ,” Carter retorted, and he rolled his eyes good-naturedly when Kat poked her tongue out at him in a childish manner.

* * *

Carter limped back into the room a good twenty minutes later, freshly showered and dressed in a tank top and track pants that was, as Kat had said, far more comfortable than his bulky MJOLNIR armour. He grunted in pain and gritted his teeth when he sat down too heavily in the chair he’d occupied earlier, and met Kat’s gaze from across the room. “Lucky they had two armour stations in full working order. ….What are you hacking now?” He raised an eyebrow at her, shaking his head in fond exasperation.

“I’m searching the databases to see if I can find some more files on Six. Some things just don’t seem to add up…and I _know_ there’s more to look at than what I previously hacked.” the Lieutenant Commander informed him, focusing on the datapad in her hand again. “I’m running a decryption program now… there’s a lot of firewalls I have to go through.”

Something she’d said caught Carter’s attention immediately; he got the sense that the file she’d hacked previously was barely even scratching the surface. “What do you mean by “some things don’t add up”?” he questioned, wondering if she had actually managed to come across anything new.

“Her behavioural patterns, for one thing,” Kat responded, “Not to mention the fact that not once in the file we’ve already gone over does it mention where Six comes from, nor what her real name is. The only thing I’ve managed to discover so far from what I’ve hacked today is that she was born on Reach. She could be related to Jorge; you never know.”

Noble One was so exhausted that he completely missed the smirk on Two’s face, and the teasing tone of voice she used; he mistakenly took her quip to heart, and so responded accordingly – well, he thought so, anyway. “That couldn’t be possible. For one thing, consider the…what is it…at least 21-year age gap between them, not to mention the fact that Jorge is Hungarian, with traces of a British accent, whereas- oh.”

It was only when he actually bothered to properly _look_ at the Lieutenant Commander that he realized she was teasing him.

She shook her head, a sly grin on her features, and answered, “You didn’t even know that I was just messing with you, did you?” She then became rather solemn, and went on, “I might not be leader of this team, and you might outrank me, but as a friend and your second-in-command, I am _ordering_ you to get some rest. I can keep Noble organized without any help – you _need_ a break, Carter.”

The Commander shook his head again, uttering a deep, bone-weary sigh, and ran a hand through his close-cropped black hair. “That obvious, huh?” he queried.

“That obvious,” Kat confirmed, frowning at him. “Have you even looked in a reflective surface lately?”

“Shit,” Carter huffed, closing his eyes briefly. “Shit. Ahh dammit.”

_Don’t lose it now…keep it together…come on, you’re better than this!_

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Kat gently patted his shoulder, and he glanced up into her concerned eyes. Damn, he was really losing it, wasn’t he?

“Get some shut-eye, Commander. I’ll be back soon after changing out of my own armour.” She gave a soft chuckle, and Carter couldn’t help but grunt a laugh of his own at that; who ever thought that the cryptanalyst would take her own advice to others and use it on herself.

* * *

By the time Kat had managed to get out of her own armour and change into clothes similar to what Carter was wearing and make her way back to the room where she’d left Nobles One and Six, One had finally managed to fall asleep. It was plain to see how exhausted he was now that he was relaxed; it was written all over his face.

When she leaned down and brushed a hand over his hair to test if he would stir, she got absolutely no response. He was down for the count – and would be so for quite some time, it seemed.

 _Poor guy_.

She could sympathize with him to a certain extent; after all, he was the leader of the team and shouldered most of NOBLE’s burdens, and he also took it into his own hands to push himself harder than the rest of them. If one of them even so much as _tried_ to push themselves, Carter would order them back into line and do the heavy lifting, so to speak, himself. It was just the way he worked. Although such lines of thinking worked on the battlefield, it also drained him both physically and mentally, and so in the breaks between, they could all see that every time they entered battle, the Commander gained yet another step to his inevitable collapse.

Judging by all the signs that he was giving off now, and the fact that he had been doing this for years, Kat knew that he was probably going to lose it fairly soon. Better then that they stayed out of the battlefield for some time than to have Carter go down mid-fight; the Lieutenant Commander was glad of the indefinite break they were having now in more ways than one.

Shaking herself free of her thoughts, Kat checked the decryption program she’d set to run nearly an hour ago now; there was a couple of notifications testifying to her handiwork – not much could escape the cryptanalyst’s supernatural hacking skills. An amused smirk quirked up her lips as she felt a small sense of pride; that smirk quickly changed into a frown when she began reading what she had discovered.

She had barely just sat down to check out exactly _when_ Six had been born when the aforementioned Spartan suddenly came to with a jerk and a gasp, crying out in pain when she found herself unable to sit upright.

Without wasting a second, Kat moved over to the bed and gently pushed her teammate flat on her back again. “Take it easy, Lieutenant. You’re in no state to even _try_ to walk around, let alone sit up. Those Elites did a number on you – you’re lucky to have survived.”

She could see the lone wolf biting back a groan at the thought of being bedridden, but the Spartan-III nodded and allowed herself to relax.

“How are you feeling?” she questioned, taking a brief second to look away and scan over the younger woman’s vitals, checking they were good before glancing at her teammate again.

Six coughed weakly and rubbed her head, but managed a tired smile. “You know it’d take a lot more than a couple bastard Elites to take me down, Kit-Kat.”

The cryptanalyst couldn’t help the laugh that slipped past her lips at the use of the old nickname and the fond, nostalgic memories it invoked. “How long has it been since I last heard you say that?”

“And how long has it been since we last saw each other?” Six countered with a smirk; Kat laughed again, shaking her head.

“Touché.”

As if answering her own question, the Lieutenant mused in a wistful manner, “I would say that it’s been far too long…honestly, it’s good to work with you again.”

“You too.”

How long had it _really_ been since the Beta Company Spartans had worked together? Then again, “worked together” was probably the wrong term; they hadn’t ever been deployed on the battlefield alongside each other up until a couple of months ago. _Trained together_ would be the right term for it…Kat had never seen the Lieutenant after they had been pulled from training by their superiors, and sent off to different parts of the galaxy.

If she was being honest with herself, she had missed the younger Spartan; Six had been like a sister to her growing up, and in fact, the age gap between the two soldiers had almost been the same age gap between Kat and her flesh-and-blood sister – though she hadn’t seen her _real_ sister since she was seven years old. Out of all the Spartans of Beta Company, the first – and strongest – bond that Kat had ever formed had been with any of her fellow soldiers had been with the lone wolf…borne of a need to protect, and of some common interests, that bond would never be broken, nor forgotten.

Looking back on it, Noble Two could remember meeting Six as if it were only yesterday…

* * *

Camp Currahee, Onyx, Zeta Doradus System, exact date unknown, 2537

_Catherine had been harassed by a trio of boys around her age, though they were all far bigger and stronger than she. They had thought it funny to take the set of dogtags that were her only priceless possession, and they teased her mercilessly for wearing something that, according to them, was utterly meaningless._

_“Give them back!” the black-haired, blue-eyed stubborn spitfire of a girl yelled, Slavic accent marring her words. She snarled at them angrily and lunged for the dogtags, only to have the chain yanked out of her reach and a foot stuck out in front of her, causing her to trip into the mud. Slithering and sliding, she tried in vain to get up, but she was unable to get her feet under her, and the boys only laughed more at her expense._

_How they thought the situation was even_ remotely _funny was beyond her, but more important to her at that moment was getting those dogtags back – they belonged to her father, who had died trying to protect their home, and had been given to her by her mother to remember him by. Her daddy had been a hero – she was fiercely proud of that – and so to have the precious items taken from her made Catherine want to cry and scream and hit whatever was closest to her._

_But she did not cry – she was stronger than that. Her father had been the one to teach her that if bullies hit her without being provoked, then it was more than okay to hit back. And that was exactly what she was trying to do._

_If only she could get her damn feet to stop sliding in the mud!_

_Growling in frustration under her breath, Catherine made another lunge, only to be tripped again; this time when she fell, she landed on her butt which caused her head to be jarred, and her ears rang slightly._

_“She said to give them back, you stupid jerks!” The tiny, yet firm voice of another girl rang out, and Catherine was barely able to spot something blurring towards the boys, before they were all shrieking and running away, and then the dogtags were dropped into her hands. It was only when her rescuer helped her to her feet that she got a good look; the girl was_ tiny _, much smaller than herself, and much younger, too._

_The fact that someone far younger than those boys had managed to scare them off stunned Catherine – that, and the fact that the girl did not seem to hold any fear over the matter, told her that this girl was rather brave._

_Boldly, the Slavic girl stuck her hand out and gave the redhead a big smile; her rescuer smiled back and shook her hand._

_“I’m Catherine. Thanks for kicking those boys’ butts…I thought I wasn’t going to get my dogtags back.”_

_“Caff-…ughh…C-…nope…Ci-cka.” the redhead scowled, trying to work out how to say her name, but to no avail. “Eh, Ci-cka. And it’s okay. Those guys were big meanies and I saw that you were stuck in the mud so I hadta come an’ help.”_

_Catherine giggled at the other girl’s butchering of her name, and then responded, “It’s okay if you can’t get my name right. You can just call me Ci-cka if you want. What’s your name?”_

_“I can’t say it so you can call me A.” the other girl responded with a shrug; it seemed that it was of no fuss to her. “I know what my name starts with but I dun-no how to say it right so I just tell people to call me A.”_

_The Slav nodded slowly, processing this new information, and smiled again. “It’s nice to meet you, A. Do you want to be friends? I can look out for you if you get scared and you can kick people’s butts if they try to hurt me.”_

_A chuckled softly, nodding. “Alright. I think that’s a fair deal.”_

* * *

Present day

“I still can’t get over the fact that you were _five_  and you kicked the asses of _three_ boys who were _seven_. Two years older than you – and yet you weren’t afraid.” Kat remarked quietly, drawing a laugh from the lone wolf.

“What can I say? Like I told you back then, those guys were being mean, and you needed the help…plus I guess I’ve always had a penchant for taking things on twice my size. I’ve done it for as long as I can remember. I dunno… just like doing the right thing. Don’t care if I get anything in return or not – though that time was the exception.”Six explained, shrugging and acting entirely nonchalant. It wasn’t even feigned, either… the Spartan-III truly was not fussed about helping others out even if she did not get something as a reward for doing so.

_Curious. Perhaps this is one of those “special things” that ONI saw in Six… one of the reasons why she was chosen as a candidate in the first place… and probably also why she was used as a lone wolf assassin – she does not care about getting her hands dirty if it means doing the right thing in the long run._

Mentally filing that note away for later, Kat decided to ask, “I never _did_ learn your true name. Mind sharing it with me?”

“Ah, heck. Well, normally I’d say that’s classified, but…” the lone wolf rubbed her jaw thoughtfully, and shrugged. “Artemis. Artemis Fox.”

Kat raised an eyebrow, smirking at her fellow Beta Company Spartan, and quipped, “A fitting, badass name for someone so … badass.”

“Ha ha, very funny,” Artemis said dryly, rolling her eyes. “Though to be honest, I _have_ missed your snark. As I’ll bet you’ve missed my own shitty humour.”

“How could I not?” Kat retorted, drawing a snort from her oldest friend. Both women then lapsed into silence, content to enjoy each other’s company once more.


	3. How To Emotions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crying Spartans, cuddly Spartans, and Spartans who don't know how to emotions. Also, Noble Team could probably afford to have a holiday

“I just lost my home... can’t believe Reach is gone.” Jorge said somberly. He was playing the game of “look after the mulish injured Spartan today”; the others were either resting up or eating, or generally elsewhere in the ship, and he’d volunteered upon seeing how tired they were.

Well, _half_ of the rest of their team. Their leader was snoozing in one of the uncomfortable-looking office chairs in the corner of the medbay, arms folded across his chest. Why he didn’t just go to sleep in his own bed, the others didn’t understand...but none of them could be bothered to question it, so they just left him be.

“So did I,” Artemis was staring off into the distance, her thoughts a thousand miles away. She blinked back into focus when she felt rather than saw the older Spartan’s quizzical expression, and glanced over at him. “I was born in New Alexandria; grew up there ’till I lost my parents when I was four years old.” she clarified, “Watched the place get glassed around me. Almost lost my best friend there, too.”

“Best friend?” Jorge questioned, and Artemis allowed a fond smile to flicker over her face before she responded.

“Yeah. Kat. Elite Field Marshal tried to headshot her with a Needle Rifle from a Phantom. If I hadn’t heard it, and I hadn’t been fast enough...” she shuddered, not wanting to think on what might have happened. Kat might have died...

“Sajnálom,” Jorge patted her shoulder; she was able to find comfort in such a simple gesture.

“I don’t _quite_ understand Hungarian yet, but I got the gist of what you said... thankyou.” the lone wolf smiled up at her companion, and the gentle giant chuckled softly in response.

“You should get some sleep,” the older Spartan said next, and Artemis rolled her eyes, barely stifling her groan.

“You too? I swear, what is it with you lot trying to mother hen me? I’m twenty – which means I’m a _fully grown adult –_ and I know how to take care of myself.” the Lieutenant grumbled, and then held up her hands sheepishly when Jorge gave her a stern look. “Okay, okay, I know when I’m beat...”

She gave in and lay down, deciding that it was probably better for her to _not_ argue with the big guy...she didn’t want him to... _pout_ at her or something.

Jorge said something along the lines of “that’s more like it” as he ruffled her hair the way an older brother might do their younger sister before leaving the room quietly. Neither Spartan saw the Commander, tucked away in the corner, stir in his sleep and smile, knowing exactly what had transpired between the two.

He was glad that his team was getting along better than before.

* * *

Jorge, Jun, and Emile had all been called to the medbay to have a discussion about Six and what was going on with her, but it seemed that Kat and Carter had started already by the time they’d reached the room; the Commander and Lieutenant Commander were arguing quietly about someone being...compromised? That didn’t sound like good news. One of the two must have sensed them outside the door, because they both called out for them to come in; they shuffled into the room almost like scolded schoolchildren, a little nervous about what they were going to hear.

Carter and Kat started to argue again whilst they both tried to explain what was going on with the presently sleeping sixth team member they were _supposed_ to be discussing. However, it didn’t _quite_ seem that they were going to be talking about anything at all until the blue-clad Spartans reached some sort of agreement, and turned to the other three.

“She’s compromised,” Kat concluded with an air of finality to her voice. The other Spartans – save for Carter, who already seemed to know this – exchanged glances with each other, their expressions mixtures of confusion and concern. Noble Six, compromised? So they _had_ heard right, after all. But _how_ was she compromised, and how in slipspace had none of them even noticed?

“If I may,” Emile interjected, looking directly at the Commander, green eyes tinged with worry, “I’d like to add onto this with somethin’ I witnessed before Reach fell. Long before, as a matter of fact.”

The older Spartan-III cocked his head as he considered this, before nodding slowly, looking unusually sombre. “Go ahead.”

* * *

Exact location unknown, Eposz, planet Reach, Epsilon Eridani system, July 27th, 2552

_Emile had been sent off to find Noble Six – they had orders from Carter to go on a scouting run, and check out the local Covenant forces, ahead of tomorrow’s planned attack. Why the Commander had paired_ him _with who was essentially the rookie of the team – nevermind the fact that she outranked him – was beyond him, but at this point in time, he wasn’t gonna question his superior. Not when there was so much at stake._

_Whistling some long-forgotten ditty and tapping his kukri against his armoured leg, the assault specialist wandered away from the base in his search for the Lieutenant._

_His keen eyes never missed much, but if they did, his HUD would notify him of any nearby friendlies – e.g. the missing Spartan._

_It didn’t take him long to find the steel- and teal-armoured warrior – said armour wasn’t very good at disguising the Spartan who was evidently trying to hide amongst a stack of weapons crates. Emile had barely even approached his teammate when she lunged out of her cover towards him, combat knife glinting dully in the dim light. The assault specialist actually had to jump out of the way, shouting a “whoa!” as he went._

_“Stay back!” the other Spartan warned, and even encased as she was in MJOLNIR armour, helmet firmly in place, Emile could tell that she was seething with emotions that she was having a hard time keeping under control. And were those_ tears _he detected in her voice?_

 _Impossible! Spartans_ never _cried, save for when they were mourning one of their own, and even then they didn’t shed enough tears for it to show up in their voices._

_And besides, the Lieutenant hadn’t even experienced the loss of a fellow supersoldier recently – well, as far as he knew, anyway. So what in slipspace was going on?_

_Emile hesitated before stepping forwards, sheathing his kukri to show he was unarmed before raising his hands in a submissive gesture. However, he had to dance out of the way when the lone wolf’s combat knife arced through the air towards him, dangerously close. “I said stay back!” she snarled, but it sounded more like a hysterical shriek than a warning growl._

_“Hey, I ain’t gonna hurt you. On your side, remember?” Emile finally spoke up, making sure to keep his distance from the enraged soldier. His words fell on deaf ears, however, as he had to dodge yet another swipe of the blade._

_“You’re crazy!” he remarked, shaking his head at her. “Look, I’m useless as shit with words, so how ’bout you talk, and I listen? That sound good to you?” Honestly, his offer was kind of a last resort; he was hoping she’d just pull herself together of her own accord and they’d be able to get on with their mission._

_It seemed that wasn’t gonna be the case today, as the Lieutenant full-on launched herself at him, and as he was too slow in dodging this time, he wound up with the younger Spartan-III clinging to him like a plasma grenade clings to an unaware Grunt, and was she – sobbing?_

_What the hell was going on?_

_Emile had expected Noble Six to stab him, but instead she had her arms around his neck in the kind of grip signifying that someone needed a physical anchor, and she was bawling her eyes out. Meanwhile, the assault specialist was utterly bewildered – what was_ he _to do? He wasn’t Jorge – he was useless with words, and even more useless with physical contact._

_Unless..._

_To hell with his boundaries, and to hell with sucking at giving comfort! He’d take a leaf outta the Spartan-II’s book, and give – well, attempt to give, at any rate – the lone wolf a hug._

_Slowly, unsure and wary at first, Emile brought his arms up and around the other soldier; almost immediately he felt her slump against him, falling quiet. Huh. So that’s all she’d needed? It wasn’t so bad... felt kinda nice, if he was being honest._

_“I’m so scared,” Six admitted in a whisper, and for once, Noble Four was inclined to agree. The Covenant on humanity’s primary military stronghold? That was bad news – Jorge was particularly worried about the safety of his home planet. Emile couldn’t blame him – hell, he was worried too, though not for quite the same reasons, of course._

_“You ain’t the only one,” he began, but stopped when Six shook her head at him._

_“It really isn’t what you’re thinking. More of a ... fear of failure, and a fear of the unknown. It’s like a steel vice gripping my chest – well, feels like it, anyway. Usually I can keep a tight lid on it, but uh... sometimes... sometimes it gets out. That’s why I wanted to be left alone – I was afraid I might hurt you. Almost did, too.” the younger Spartan explained quietly. By this time, she’d moved away from him, resting on her haunches and twirling her combat knife in her gauntleted fingers in a loose, almost relaxed manner._

_Such a far cry from the angry, vulnerable soldier she’d been earlier!_

_It was so strange for her to act like this...perhaps, Emile thought, she had some bad things happen to her in the past and she had that .... PTS-whatever that Jun had been diagnosed with. Whatever it was, he was sure that they could deal with it later. For now, though, they had Covies to kill. He stowed that thought away for later, and helped Six to her feet; the two Spartan-IIIs commandeered a couple of Mongooses, and set off._

* * *

Present day

“Huh.” Carter remarked quietly, his brain absorbing the information. “I can see why you didn’t think to report this earlier, but ... that’s – _hugging_?” He was a little bewildered by the ... uncommon... method in which the assault specialist had calmed down the lone wolf and effectively prevented himself from being stabbed.

Emile lifted and dropped his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug. “What? I didn’t know what else to do. I had – well, my older brother was all I had for awhile, and sometimes hugging was the only way he knew how to make me feel better when I was missin’ my parents. Figured it was worth a go with Six when she lost the plot. Guess I was right. Kid – heck, I ain’t one to be observant, but hell...the kid was acting like she really _needed_ it. Like she has this ...this thing I heard about awhile back, somethin’ to do with not being touched in awhile and then kinda going ga-ga for it? That’s my interpretation, anyway.”

“Touch deprivation,” Jorge clarified, and Emile nodded in confirmation.

“So, what do we do, boss?” The keen-eyed sniper tracked his gaze across the room, studying each of his teammates in turn though the question was only directed to one.

“I suppose we’ll just have to...try our best. Isn’t much else we can do. Oh, and remember, this stays _off the books._ Word gets out about this, and we’ll be up to our helmets in paperwork and ONI will be clawing at Six in an effort to have her locked up and psychoanalysed. That clear?” the Commander said seriously.

“Crystal.” Emile said quietly, and the others were quick to agree.

* * *

Camp Hathcock, Highland Mountains, Eposz, September 1st, 2552

Kat checked over the team, noting who was already asleep, and who was still wide awake. She saw that Emile was curled up as tight as he could manage, and he was ... – was he sucking his thumb? _Baby_. Shaking her head, she noticed that Jun was also asleep, counting bullets to himself very, very quietly. Artemis was also in bed, flat on her back and out for the count due to all the drugs and pain meds in her system.

 _Three out of five_. _Now to take care of the others._

“You would not believe what I managed to find around here,” she told Jorge, and from behind her back produced a teddy bear, handing it to him. “There you go.”

The Spartan-II smiled at her and snuggled the teddy bear close, saying something to her, but she didn’t quite catch it as she was already moving across the room to Carter’s bed. But it didn’t matter – she knew that the big man was thanking her.

Much to her chagrin, the Commander was wide awake, staring up at the ceiling. His knees were drawn up, and one arm rested over his abdomen. He moved his head when she approached, but didn’t say anything. She frowned and shook her head, noting the haze of pain in his almost unnaturally _blue_ eyes, and pulled a syringe out of her pocket.

“I know you won’t like this, but it’s for your own good,” she informed him, and gently pushed his legs down and tucked him under the blanket. “Get some sleep, Commander.” Her voice dropped to a soothing whisper, and she patted his cheek as she injected the contents of the syringe into his neck. He was still silent as he regarded her, and once the drugs took hold, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

 _Good. They’re all done. Now I can get some rest_.

Pleased with the good work she had done, all for her teammates, Kat made her way over to her own bed, and the instant she lay down, she was fast asleep.

* * *

Artemis woke shaking, her body coated in a fine layer of sweat, chest heaving as she panted for breath. She slowly sat up, looking about the room at the sleeping forms of her teammates, and then swung her legs over the side of the bed, making up her mind to get up. Placing one foot at a time, she limped her way over to the room’s sole window, and nearly jumped out of her skin when she saw Carter standing there at parade rest, hands clasped neatly behind his back.

He turned his head in her direction, and frowned slightly. “You shouldn’t be out of bed,” he scolded quietly, and Artemis wanted to laugh at that – he was almost as injured as she.

“Yeah, well, you shouldn’t be, either,” she retorted, and the Commander uttered a snort of amusement, giving a shake of his head.

“Touché.”

They fell into a companionable silence after that – what words were needed when it was time for them to be sleeping, anyway?

Artemis let out a breath to try and steady her nerves, and stared out at the moonlit, snow-capped mountains surrounding Camp Hathcock. She could also mentally “see” the destruction that the Covenant had done by glassing the planet – the mountains reminded her of the territory surrounding Aszod, where she had almost died – and she shuddered internally. _Don’t go there_.

It didn’t work as well as she had hoped – her heart was still racing, and her clammy hands were clenched into fists that shook. She closed her eyes, trying to block the images from her mind. She winced, shoulders slumping with resignation; rest would not be hers tonight, it seemed.

Carter must have noticed that _something_ was wrong with her, because he placed a hand on her shoulder, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’m not gonna lie and say that I know what you’re going through, because I don’t; it’s different for everyone. But I _will_ say that you’re not the only one who has nightmares. And, well...if you ever need somebody to talk to, don’t be afraid to come to me. I might be your commanding officer, but I’m also your teammate, and, I hope...your friend.”

Artemis didn’t know what it was that did it, whether it was the simple offer of help, or the fact that Carter _wanted_ to befriend her, or maybe she was just overtired...she suddenly broke down in silence, tears streaking down her face, muscled frame trembling.

“Whoa, hey, are you-? Here.” The next thing she knew, a pair of strong arms wrapped around her, and she gave in and leaned into the embrace, biting her knuckles so as to stifle the sounds of misery that her body wanted to release. She didn’t understand – _couldn’t_ understand – why he was helping her, but she didn’t resist the comfort that he was offering.

Perhaps it was just one of those things that people did with no motives behind it.

She didn’t know, and honestly, she also didn’t care. She would take any form of comfort right now...even as awkward as a hug felt that was given to her by her _commanding officer_ – no, teammate...no...he was her friend...she was _so tired_...

Sheer exhaustion soon overcame her, and her body went limp as she passed out for about the second or third time that day.

* * *

Carter hadn’t exactly known what to do when Artemis simply passed out in his arms. He certainly couldn’t help her back to bed – he was far too weak for that – and he didn’t want to disrupt any of his teammates. And so he simply entered a state of ... existing ... standing there in stoic silence with the other Spartan-III flopped against him.

He hadn’t even realized that it was morning by the time he felt a pair of eyes tracking him, and he glanced over his shoulder to see Kat silently watching him. Internally, he wondered how long she had been standing there, but aloud, he said quietly, “What?”

“Didn’t take you for a hugger, Commander,” Noble Two ribbed with a smirk, moving to stand beside him. She sobered, and inquired with a trace of concern to her voice, “How is she?”

“Exhausted, for one. And ... probably needing help. Don’t know if she’d accept or not, but...” He shrugged, and resumed staring out the window. “I thought I’d do _something_ , at least.”

“You know, you could have asked for help to put her back to bed.” Kat stated, sounding like she was chiding him, but she placed a hand on his arm, looking up into his face. He met her gaze and shook his head, shrugging again. “Yeah, I know, but I didn’t want to wake any of you guys, and besides, it just felt like ... when I hugged her, I don’t know ... it felt like I was ...”

“Home? Mm. I get that too, sometimes. Whatever “home” is for us. Better to take any chance you can get to feel it as much as you can. We are all brothers and sisters-in-arms, whether Spartan-II or Spartan-III, and we have all lost so many of our friends and family members.”

“Mindannyian egymás családja vagyunk.” Both Spartans turned – or Kat turned, and Carter shifted around as much as he could – to see Jorge wide awake, join them by the window. He chuckled at the confusion on their faces, and repeated himself in English. “We are all each other’s family now.”

He stepped forward and gently prised the Commander’s arms from around Artemis, and picked her up with little trouble, placing her back onto her bed and drawing the covers over her. “Figured you might’ve had some trouble.”

“Don’t make me put you on toilet cleaning duty,” Carter said sternly, but his eyes showed that he was amused and teasing rather than serious. “Get much sleep, big guy?”

“As much sleep as one can in a bed not built for someone just over seven feet tall,” Jorge answered, cracking his neck and shaking out his arms. “What about yourself?”

“Sleep is not fun.” was all Carter said, shaking his head. “Those beds are clearly not designed for comfort. Especially not when you’re severely injured.”

“I agree, and I ain’t that injured. Can we get out of here? Lookin’ out the window’s givin’ me the creeps. And I can’t imagine it would be much fun to see your planet go up in flames in front of you.” Emile was sitting up in bed, watching the trio and twirling his kukri. “I hate it here.”

Jorge chuckled and leaned against the wall. “It is rather cramped in here,” he agreed. He glanced at their commander questioningly, as did Emile and Kat.

Carter held up his hands and let out a groan, shaking his head. “Oh no, don’t go looking at me for answers. I’m in no condition to be flying any kind of vessel. Besides, where can we go? The Covenant could easily track us down. Not to mention we’re no longer under command of the UNSC _or_ ONI.”

A grin slowly spread across Emile’s face, and it sent shivers down the other Spartans’ spines, as well as the manic look in his eyes. “Not to worry. I know _just_ how to get us outta here.”


	4. Not Exactly A Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...it seems that getting off Reach was just step one in their plan. What are SPARTANs to do when they're off-duty and cooped up aboard a frigate? Maybe coming together as a family is a good idea...
> 
> Also, once again, Carter is used as a human teddy bear. I swear, one of these days I'm gonna write these guys doing _something_ productive.
> 
> And here also is my take on what happens in the _Deliver Hope_ trailer. Honestly I loaf my children sm and I _know_ that they'd mourn the loss of a fellow team member, especially one that they've grown particularly close to.

UNSC _Stalwart Dawn_ , outside of Epsilon Eridani system, September 9th, 2552

The fall of Reach had hit them all hard. The individual members of NOBLE Team – who had miraculously survived near-death situations – suffered each in their own way. Only Jun suffered less than the others, simply because he had left with Dr. Halsey before anything had happened to him.

 They had escaped the doomed planet just before it was entirely overrun and glassed by the Covenant, and now had an indefinite home in the barracks of a lone, space-wandering UNSC vessel, commandeered by the few surviving Marines who’d come with them.

Emile would wake, yelling out “I’m ready, how ’bout you?!” before stabbing his kukri into the wall or throwing it halfway across the room – thankfully, if the sharp blade got too close to one of the SPARTANs, their augmented reflexes saved them from injury. Carter would often fall out of bed into a crouch, his hands reaching for a DMR that was no longer there. Kat and Jorge, the most silent of the five who had frequent nightmares, would not make any noise; Kat would twitch and jerk in her sleep, and sometimes Jorge’s limbs thrashed about like he was swimming in space. Every now and then, the big man would fall off his bunk, but he was quick to reassure the other SPARTANs that he was coping and would get back to sleep. These nightmares...they were easy enough to deal with. If they weren’t able to manage to fall asleep after waking up, they would chat quietly with each other before drifting off, or they would watch the stars and planets they passed by, or play cards, or something simple and quiet like that.

Lieutenant Artemis-B312, the mysterious and deadly Noble Six, was hit the hardest.

It surprised everyone, because, even as young as she was, Artemis was the most silent one of them all – and she was a very good soldier. She was one of two SPARTANs in history to have been called a “hyper-lethal vector”, and it had always shown in battle. And there had been young SPARTANs before, so this was no different.

Yet Artemis often woke screaming, thrashing, limbs flailing. Sometimes her screams were cries for help, other times she called for the rest of the team, but most of the time....she screamed in absolute, abject horror. Nobody could work out why, and nobody knew how to comfort her. Oftentimes it took three of them to hold her down and wait for her to fall silent and still once more. Every time they heard her scream, it haunted them, and they left her to sleep whilst they quietly discussed what they could do for her.

These six SPARTANs were more than just a team – they were a _family_. Their bond had been forged in battle; in war, and as they helped each other through the after effects of the nightmares, that bond was strengthened.

Finally, Jorge tried something that none of them had ever even thought of: instead of trying to hold Artemis down, he crouched beside her bunk, stroking the top of her head and talking to her in a soothing voice – only he spoke in Hungarian, because, oddly enough, the accent seemed to soothe Noble Six more than English did, for some strange reason, even though she didn’t understand a single word of what he was saying.

The first time he attempted this, Emile was clearly giving the SPARTAN-II a “what the fuck” expression, Jun seemed bemused by the whole thing, and Carter was the only one who seemed to understand what Jorge was aiming for.

It was the way a father would comfort their terrified child.

It made sense that Jorge would be the one to try to calm Artemis down in this manner – he hadn’t been fondly called a “gentle giant” for nothing. Even though he was also as lethal as the rest of them, he was still somehow more... soft. That was proven during their battles on Reach, when he had calmed down that civilian girl whose father had just been killed by a team of Zealot-class Elites. It was his words and his actions that had calmed the girl – not anybody else’s.

Once Artemis had slipped back into a deeper, seemingly more peaceful sleep, the others gathered around the low table in the centre of the room, talking quietly lest they disturb her.

“What are we gonna do? I’ve known guys with shell shock...but hell, I have _never_ seen anything like that. At the very least, none of it has affected me like this before.” Emile tapped his fingers against the hilt of his prized knife, and the assault specialist was abnormally subdued.

“If she wants the help-” Carter began, but Jorge cut him off with a polite but firm “Sir”.

“It goes beyond that now. We’re a family, and if someone needs help, we give it to ’em, whether they asked or not. It’s the right thing to do.” the SPARTAN-II stated, and the others nodded in agreement. The Commander hesitated, voicing his concern, but the others were quick to dismiss him and assuage his fears; he eventually caved and agreed to the matter.

The instant they heard noises of distress, five heads snapped over in the direction of Artemis’ bed; she was mumbling and tossing about in her sleep. None of them could quite make out what she was saying, until her voice rose, and she sounded sad, and almost...desperate. “I’m so sorry...there was nothing we could do for her. I couldn’t – I saved her once, but I just – I’m so sorry. No, she was - ... I’m _so sorry_ , Carter, I-”

The aforementioned SPARTAN-III was the first to stand up, and before the others could do anything, he shooed them to their own beds; Artemis’ words had caused something to twist in his gut, and he was going to help her. When Jorge paused and looked like he was about to say something, Carter frowned, and responded firmly, “That’s an order, SPARTAN,” only it sounded more like a request than a proper order. The heavy weapons specialist complied, but he could still feel the older man’s eyes on him as he walked to Noble Six’s bed, dropping into a kneel and shaking the lone wolf’s shoulder.

Artemis shot upright the moment she was touched, and stared unseeingly into the darkness, eyes wide. She then looked about the room, biting her lip to stifle the whimper that rose up in the back of her throat; her eyes locked onto Carter’s, and without hesitation, she leaned over and wrapped her arms around his upper torso, accepting the help he was offering.

Noble One hadn’t been expecting that kind of response from his fellow SPARTAN-III, and so he was unmoving in his surprise before he embraced the supersoldier; he didn’t exactly know what else to do. He wasn’t really used to this whole “offering comfort to those in need” thing, but...if it meant that his teammates were happier, then so be it. Awkwardness be damned.

“It wasn’t real,” he said quietly, and that was a shock to him – since when did those kinds of words _ever_ come out of his mouth? Strange...maybe this was what it was like to be _human_ rather than a genetically and biologically augmented man in a powered suit of armour.

He supposed that normal people did this on a regular basis.

Eventually he felt her relax, and he stood up, starting to move away – but he didn’t get very far, because Artemis’ hand shot out and gripped his wrist, tight. He looked at her questioningly, one eyebrow raised.

“Stay...” she implored, voice barely audible, and when the SPARTAN made no move in either direction, she added, voice quavering, “Please?”

Carter heaved a sigh, and gave a slight shake of the head, relenting. The look on her face ... something akin to _fear_ ... it caused his gut to twist again, and she was _asking_ him for help. “Alright. But just this once, okay?”

Six nodded and slid off the bed – it made sense if he got on first; he _was_ bigger than her, after all. Even if only by a little.

Shooting Emile a warning look – Carter _sensed_ that the assault specialist wanted to make a stupid quip – he clambered onto the bed and got as comfortable as he could, leaving as much space as possible for Artemis. The lone wolf jumped up beside him with an almost feline grace, curling up with her face buried in his chest.

_Oh boy, why do I get the feeling that I’ve been downgraded from team leader to human pillow?_

Carter heaved another sigh and wrapped one arm around Artemis in case she fell off, and closed his eyes. “What happens off-duty, _stays_ off-duty. Consider that a standing order, NOBLE.” he commanded, and when he heard nobody rejecting the idea, he felt a small sense of relief. Good. Because if word got out of things like.... _this_ happening, it would tarnish the team’s reputation.

* * *

The sound of Kat cursing loudly as he drifted into awareness nearly had Carter jolting upright in alarm – were it not for the fact that Artemis was still sound asleep, curled up against him. Even so, he shifted about and swung his head in the direction of Noble Two, concerned. “What is it?” She only _ever_ swore if something was seriously wrong.

“I just found out that some _very_ dangerous things have been done to Artemis,” Kat looked up from her datapad, and her expression showed she was...disturbed. That was alarming in itself – just _what_ had she read? “Take a look. This wasn’t even in her file that we read. Took me awhile to decode it. I have _no_ idea who sent it to me, or why.” She tossed him the datapad, and he caught it easily, skimming over the contents.

“Dangerous? Dangerous how? Physiologically or psychologically?” Carter questioned, scrolling further and further down before actually properly reading into what the Lieutenant Commander had found. He wanted to know what he was looking at before delving deeper.

“Psychologically,” Kat got to her feet and paced the room. “We’re talking things that would cause permanent damage to a person’s psyche – SPARTAN or not.”

That wasn’t good news at _all_. Carter began reading the files, getting more and more disturbed the further down he read. And then he discovered something that made him stop reading entirely. “SPARTAN-117? What’s it saying about him?” He glanced over at Kat, eyebrows raised.

This was serious. If it was mentioning the Master Chief in her file...it related to the legendary SPARTAN-II as well – and was this something he knew, or did he also have yet to discover things about himself that he never even thought possible?

“From what I’ve gathered, it says that he’s Noble Six’s biological brother. It then goes into _great_ detail of how ONI achieved that.” Noble Two answered, and it was plain to see, then, that she was truly, deeply disturbed.

For all intents and purposes, ONI had done some very shady things – damaging things. But _why?_ For what reason had they needed to seemingly “create” a SPARTAN-III entirely from scratch?

Jorge spat out the mouthful of water he’d just swallowed, and wiped his mouth, coughing. “John-117 is Artemis-B312’s brother? How is that even possible? That can’t be right.” The big man was shocked, to say the least. To learn that one of his own brothers-in-arms was _biologically_ related to one of his sisters-in-arms, of a later generation entirely...that was something that he’d never expected.

Wordlessly, Carter tossed the datapad to the gentle giant, and soon he, too, was as troubled as the others. “And I don’t think John would even _know_ what ONI has done.” He handed back the pad, a look of disgust on his features, and he shook his head. “But it doesn’t make any sense. Why would they need to do such a thing? What use would it be to them to have another Master Chief, _without_ having another Master Chief – if you understand what I’m getting at.”

Sudden realization struck the team leader, and he shook his head, frowning. “They wanted a fallback plan, Jorge. A replacement for the Master Chief, if he was ever killed, or went rogue. The only thing I don’t understand is why they deployed Artemis when she was supposed to be a “what if” replacement.”

“I think they put her in with the other SPARTAN-IIIs simply because it was easier than keeping her as replacement. How hard do you think it would be to contain a singular SPARTAN for an indefinite period until, on the off-chance, the Master Chief was killed or went rogue?” Kat informed him, and she looked _angry_. “That, and not only did she need to have the same training as the other IIIs, but she also needed to have...memories. Good enough ones to not break her. They wanted her to do the things that SPARTAN-117 would never do – why do you think so many militia groups disappeared in such a short amount of time? Artemis was kept to do ONI’s dirty work, whilst 117 was off saving the galaxy elsewhere, under the watchful eye of the UNSC. They knew, even as a four year-old, that she would survive the augmentations simply because they had seen her courage, her will to _survive_ ; that knowledge, paired with the genetic markers she carried, meant that they now had someone to do what most others wouldn’t. It also now makes sense as to why she was pulled out of Beta Company directly after training.”

Jorge rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. “I bet that ONI didn’t even let Dr. Halsey in on this little secret of theirs. Figures they’d keep something like this from her. They couldn’t have the creator of the SPARTAN-II program going nuts just because they’d fabricated a sibling of John-117.” he mused, shaking his head.

Carter opened his mouth to reply, when, faster than he could react, he was flipped around and pinned on his back, before being thrown halfway across the room, crashing into the table with a groan. Artemis sat in a half-crouch on the bed, eyes wild and breathing heavy, and Emile and Jun had been rudely interrupted from their sleep; both SPARTANs looked around in confusion.

“I got you,” Jorge helped the commander to his feet, and moved to check over Artemis. “You alright?” He addressed the frightened soldier in a more gentle tone of voice.

“What did I...?” Artemis looked around, lost in a haze of confusion. When she saw Carter leaning heavily against the wall, her eyes widened, and she looked visibly upset. “Commander, I-”

The SPARTAN-III held up a staying hand, shaking his head. “I’ll live,” He removed his hand from where he had it pressed against his stomach, and when he saw red spots, he was slightly worried. “Ah shit. Damn stitches reopened. Kat, I might need a hand.”

“Come on then.” Noble Two walked out with Noble One, ready to assist him in case it was worse than they thought. Artemis saw this through half-shut eyes; she hugged her knees to her chest and chewed on her lower lip. She also saw Jorge watching her with worried eyes, but she ignored him. She didn’t want to talk – she had just _hurt_ one of the team, reopened one of his wounds, and all because she couldn’t control her damn reflexes.

“She ain’t gonna respond, you know that, right?” Emile asked quietly, shaking his head. “She’s entered into a state of shock that she ain’t gonna come out of easily. Trust me, I’ve seen it before. And it ain’t pretty if you try and force ’em out of their heads.”

Jorge glanced at the assault specialist, looking for all the world like a concerned father would. “We can’t just leave her here like this.” The SPARTAN was at a loss for what to do for his friend.

“You’ll figure it out, big man,” Emile clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go grab somethin’ to eat. If either of you get hungry, I wouldn’t mind the company.”

* * *

Noble Team all sat down to have lunch together; it was a rather silent, solemn affair – aside from the quiet bickering between Jorge and Emile over a game of cards they were partaking in. Artemis wanted to be the one to break that silence – she wanted to know more about the team. But the thing was, she didn’t exactly know _how_ to go about asking things like that. Sure, they might’ve been SPARTAN-IIIs, trained not to feel anything, but NOBLE were different...they were a family, now, and their memories scarred them.

Artemis didn’t want to bring up anything that might cause issues between team members. That would make her feel guilty for doing such a thing to them.

And yet, her curiosity got the better of her; she found herself asking Kat, “I don’t want to sound like...like I’m looking too much into it...and I don’t exactly wanna cause any ... bad memories to resurface, but I noticed that after I saved you, you were crying. Why ... why is that?”

Jorge and Emile paused the rather heated card game they’d been playing – rules were _always_ disputed with those two – and the cards scattered all over the table. Jun nearly dropped the protein bar he’d just picked up, and Carter merely raised an eyebrow, before glancing at Kat.

Clearly this was a matter that the rest of the team already understood – perhaps the reason stemmed from one of their prior battles? Maybe it was even to do with how Noble Two lost her arm. Either way, it was something that the SPARTANs had not expected to be directly confronted about, especially not by one of their own.

Her question was still answered, however, when Kat uttered a slightly bitter chuckle, shaking her head. “I suppose it was because when I looked up...all I could see was Thom – the original Noble Six –  standing above me, and I thought that my right arm was numb again. I thought that the MFDD was close to going off...I thought I was going to die all over again... It’s a long story. I don’t even know where to begin.”

* * *

Exact location unknown, Fumirole, unknown system, April 22nd, 2552

_It was a simple enough plan. Fight through hordes of Covenant, arm the MFDD, get to the Covenant ship hovering above the city, and destroy it._

_Simple didn’t mean it was easy, however. As in the oft-repeated words of Commander Carter-A259, “It wouldn’t be a NOBLE mission if it were easy”._

_Barely even pausing as she sprinted towards her destination, Lieutenant Commander Catherine-B320 armed the Medium Fusion Destructive Device, or MFDD, setting the timer for two minutes, and tucked the device safely under the crook of her arm once more._

_She was barely paying attention to the battle raging around her – she only had one thing in mind, and that was to get the MFDD to the CCS-class battlecruiser holding position above the city and destroy it before it could deploy any more troops. Kat didn’t even have to take a single second to think each time she fired her M6G pistol into the Covenant forces; she just fired and hit her targets each time, not slowing her stride even once._

_She heard the loud, unmistakable chattering of Chief Warrant Officer Jorge-052’s machine gun, and watched as an Elite Ultra fell, its body riddled with bullets. Explosions, plasma fire, and bullets flew all around her; she tuned everything out._

_Warrant Officer Emile-A239 was there not far ahead of her, waving her on, his shotgun in hand and ready to slaughter the Covenant bastards with vengeance – shown especially in the form of the white, grinning skull painted on the visor of his helmet. His own handiwork, which he was rather proud of, and often proclaimed so._

_Noble Two didn’t even flinch as another Elite flew backwards in front of her, the contrail from an SRS-99 AM Sniper Rifle – fired by Warrant Officer Jun-A266, hiding out high above – hanging in the air to show what had taken the monster down. The sniper had her covered._

_In her peripheral vision, she saw Carter pulling out his combat knife and stabbing an Elite, kicking the body aside before running back into the fight. Not far behind was Thom-A293; the reports from his Designated Marksman Rifle told her how close he was._

_Not even checking her stride, Kat leapt high off a pile of rubble, firing her pistol and landing neatly. She was almost there – and with three and a half minutes left to go on the MFDD’s timer._

_Everything changed in a matter of seconds. A Type-26 Banshee swooped low overhead, ejecting a fuel rod missile which exploded in front of her. Kat went flying through the air, landing heavily on her right arm – the crunch hardly registered, and she did not take note of any pain – before flopping onto her back, pistol sliding from her limp grasp. Her visor had shattered upon impact with the ground, and she could barely see what was happening around her – but even with her suit’s systems not working properly, it was hard_ not _to hear the beeping of the bomb nearby, and she felt, then, that perhaps she was going to die._

_She could no longer feel her right arm, and at this point, almost didn’t care if it was still there or not. That bomb was due to go off in two minutes, and nobody was near enough to save her._

_Kat must have blacked out, because when she next opened her eyes, she could see the sunlight flashing off the gold visor of Thom, who gave her a nod and grabbed the MFDD, before walking away and activating the jetpack strapped to his back._

_She wanted to scream, to cry out, to say or do_ something _– she felt she had to deter her teammate_ somehow _, because with the amount of time left on the bomb, she knew that there was little hope for the SPARTAN-III to survive the detonation – but fear had gripped her chest; she could scarcely even breathe as it was._

_Noble Two felt so useless – and powerless to stop her teammate – as Thom vanished from sight, and moments later, the Covenant cruiser exploded, destroying the ship and any Covenant infantry aboard._

_After the battle had ended, and the rest of Noble Team had boarded a Pelican dropship for safety, it was only then that the loss of Thom-A293 hit them all._

_She saw the pain in Carter’s eyes as he tossed off his helmet and shook his head at her, answering her unasked question – the rifleman had not made it off the ship before it exploded. They had lost one of their own, and the grief was greatest for the Commander and Lieutenant Commander – for Carter, because it was his job to lead the team, and make sure they all stayed safe and_ alive _, and for Kat, because she was the one who had designed the op entirely._

_Noble Two did not realize that Noble Six had dropped his dogtags beside her before he’d sacrificed himself until she saw Noble One holding the silver chain in his gauntleted hand, and then, for the first time since she was around seven years old, Kat allowed herself to cry; she was overwhelmed by grief._

_Carter did not make any comment – he was silent in his own suffering, and what was there to say? – as he sat on the floor of the dropship and bowed his head, one hand moving to grasp Kat’s own._

_The battle was over, and it had been won, but at a great cost._

* * *

 Present day

“It was hard for everyone that day,” Emile was unusually sombre; even his green eyes held hints of pain. “But we pulled together somehow.”

Artemis bit her lip and stared at the table top, seeing the haunted looks in the other SPARTANs’ eyes. “I didn’t mean to-” She began to try and apologize, but Carter shook his head at her, and she fell silent.

“Don’t be. Sometimes talking about things like that can help.” Even his own voice, so usually firm and commanding and full of strength and confidence, was low and tinged with grief. “No matter how hard it hurts.” He shared a glance with Kat, and they both pulled silver chains off their necks; both held a singular dogtag at the end.

 _What was that all about?_ Artemis wondered, looking at the tags thoughtfully. _Do they only have one dogtag each? That’s certainly not something I’ve ever seen before if that’s true._

To her surprise, the SPARTAN-IIIs handed the dogtags to her – she gave them a quizzical look, but took the two chains nonetheless. “What are these for? Who do these belong to?”

“Thom. They’re his – we kept one each as a reminder to never fail our team again...now we want _you_ to have them. You’ve earned your place on the team as Noble Six...the dogtags are your keepsake now.” Carter replied, and when Artemis hesitated, he gave her a firm nod.

Noble Six didn’t know what else to say. What _could_ she say, except maybe...? “Thankyou,” She took the tags firmly in her hand, and slung the chain around her neck. “They’ll be safe.”


	5. Making Plans...Sorta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not so sure SPARTANs know how to plan when they're not on the battlefield...and NOBLE, is it _really_ a good idea if you take matters into your own hands?  
>  Well....guess you'll have to see, huh guys?
> 
> Also, once again, SPARTANs being dorky. B/C I just love these guys and honestly they're a bunch of shits. Even Jorge can be, at times.
> 
> Another thing...I know next to _nothing_ about how ship systems work in this galaxy. My lack of science/computer skills probably doesn't help. So uh...don't mind the part where I say that a planet has fuckin' vanished off radar. My bad.

A few hours later, Artemis stood alone in a hall near the ship’s bridge, staring into the vast space beyond, thinking. She remembered just how much her life had changed since being assigned to Noble Team...how much it had changed for the better. She had never felt freer in her entire life. She finally felt like she was ... home. And that this self now – this new person who she was slowly becoming? This was her true self.

It felt good to finally belong.

“Mind if I join you?” Jorge’s familiar, friendly voice disrupted her thought train.

“By all means, feel free,” Artemis turned and gave him a genuine smile. It was a rare thing for SPARTANs to smile – especially SPARTAN-IIIs, who had not at all been “designed”, so to speak, to deal with people. Not to mention the fact that there was never really much for a SPARTAN to smile _about_. But for Noble Six, that was changing – and she embraced that change eagerly.

Slowly but surely, a companionable silence drifted over the pair, and Artemis became wrapped up in her thoughts once more. Absent-mindedly rubbing her elbow, she continued to stare out the window, reflecting on her time with Noble Team, and working for ONI – doing their dirty work – before that.

Finally, it was Artemis who broke the silence. She turned to face Jorge, and queried, “It’s different, isn’t it?”

The older SPARTAN regarded her quizzically for a few moments, and then it seemed to hit him, because he chuckled and gave the barest approximation of a shrug. “In a way. But I am used to all of this “team as family” business, so that’s not even on my list of worries.”

Artemis tilted her head slightly, thinking she heard footsteps, but brushed the thought aside. “You miss the IIs, don’t you?” she asked, instead.

“Yes and no. I’d never really imagined that I’d see them again the moment I was assigned to Noble. But who knows? I don’t think many of them are left.” He spoke sombrely, eyes looking downwards slightly; perhaps there was a hint of melancholy about his attitude.

Six was going to respond, when she heard what sounded suspiciously like one of Emile’s crazy-ass war cries coming from nearby, followed by – giggling? – then what sounded like Kat apologizing. She frowned, wondering what was going on.

“Raaaaaaargh!” Okay, that was _definitely_ one of _Jun’s_ war cries – the accent gave him away in a heartbeat.

Artemis shook her head, rolling her eyes before calling out, “Guys, come on, if you’re trying to scare us with zombie noises, get Carter to make the sound effects instead. You two are too noisy in battle as it is and therefore identifiable, and Kat, for crying out loud, do you not know the meaning of _stealth_?”

The three aforementioned SPARTANs slipped out of the shadows, and both Jun and Emile looked annoyed at Kat, whilst the latter could only look amused about the whole situation.

“You know, the boss ain’t exactly gonna try and scare us. He’s too serious for that. All work and no play, you know what I’m sayin’?” Emile leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. “He ain’t into fun and games like us.”

Artemis suddenly felt a chill go down her spine, and she could have sworn that she heard heavy breathing behind her. She slowly spun around, and found herself looking straight at the grinning skull visor of Emile, only the assault specialist was behind her, not _in_ _front of_ her, and his helmet, last time she checked, was most definitely _not_ on his head when he had walked into the room.

So what the heck was going on?

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jorge tap Emile on the shoulder, and lean in to ask, “How are you in two places at once?” and the assault specialist turned and screamed like a little girl at seeing his own helmet seemingly floating in midair, whilst Jun suddenly went very, very pale.

There was certainly heavy breathing emanating from the helmet’s external speakers, but oddly enough, Artemis couldn’t see a glint that gave away the rest of the armour – nor where exactly the person who had the helmet on was located.

“Boo,” the helmet said in a voice that was eerily calm, and poor Jun actually looked like he might pass out, whilst Emile screamed again. Even stolid, stoic Jorge looked slightly bothered by the whole encounter, and that was saying something.

Kat, however, was entirely unfazed, because she strode forward and practically yanked Emile’s helmet off the other person, revealing it to be-

“ _Carter_?! What the f-?” Emile seemed to almost choke on the irony.

“I’m sorry, am I “too boring”?” Carter smirked, looking rather smug. “I’m “not gonna try and scare you”?” He tossed the assault specialist his helmet after getting it back from Kat, and let out a rare chuckle. “Pretty sure I just broke your stereotype, Emile.”

Emile simply glowered and said nothing, choosing to pointedly stare out the window instead. Jun snorted with amusement and shook his head, recovering from the scare. “Neat trick, Commander. Though next time, if you brandish his kukri as well, it’d be a hell of a lot scarier.”

“I think I may just keep that in mind, Jun.”

* * *

UNSC _Stalwart Dawn_ , drifting past Outer Colony planet, unknown system, December 12th, 2552

“What’s our location?” Carter repeated himself coolly, barely keeping his irritation in check as he stared down one of the officers on the bridge of the ship they were commandeering. They had barely just left slipspace after an emergency jump – a lone Covenant cruiser had locked onto their location – and now they had absolutely had no clue as to where they were.

Or, at least, it seemed that the bridge hands didn’t know where they were. And that pissed Carter off. He was usually good at remaining calm and composed, but he _needed_ some kind of location – that way, they could actually _bother_ asking for help. If they were in the middle of nowhere, what was the use of asking for help if it came to that, when they might wind up alerting more Covenant forces to their presence? At least if the system they were currently in was charted, _someone_ – whether it be UNSC, ONI, or even just the UEG itself – would be able to provide backup.

Who knew if that Covenant cruiser was still tracking them now?

“Sir, I – we don’t know. Nothing’s coming up on the maps. There’s... there’s a planet, but it just comes up with “unknown” every time we try to work out the designation.” The man in front of him fidgeted nervously, and Carter shook his head.

He pressed his lips into a line and paced about the room, until the surface of the planet caught his eye, and there was an achingly familiar feeling in his gut – _explosions, distant plasma fire, people screaming, hands shoving him, they were glassing the planet_ – he shook his head again, and turned back to the officer.

“Corporal, that isn’t an “unknown planet”; you’re looking at Biko.” the Commander informed the other man, who just looked confused.

“How do you know, sir? If it’s not showing up on the system-” the Corporal protested, but Carter was quick to cut him off, eyes flashing a warning to keep quiet.

“I know, because I was born there; I grew up there. It was glassed in 2525, and that might explain why it’s not showing up on the systems.”

“That, or you probably need a system update. If it’s listing a _known, formerly colonized planet_ as “unknown”, then there’s some kind of anomaly in the software.” Kat chimed in from somewhere behind Carter. She came to stand beside him, looking unimpressed. “Whoever’s in charge of your computer network clearly needs to be fired.”

“If it was glassed, then how are we supposed to call for help? There would be nobody down there.” the officer replied, but Carter had had enough of the conversation; if Kat had come to the bridge, then it was time for the team meeting they’d discussed earlier. He jerked his head in a “get back to work” motion, and strode out of the room with Kat at his heels.

“Sitrep, Two,” he requested, glancing at the Lieutenant Commander, who had been his most trusted second-in-command for so many years now.

“I’m pretty sure they’re getting anxious, Commander. Jorge seems certain that the Covenant wouldn’t have left off so easily – he suspects there’s something bigger at play here. I think Artemis is more worried about us finding a human-occupied planet more than anything, and Emile and Jun are too busy arguing like children to give any opinion... again.” Kat reported, falling into step beside him.

Carter grunted softly, rubbing his jawline as he mulled over her words. “Hm. I think that’s about what I was expecting. And what’s your opinion?”

Kat smirked at him, keying in the code for their shared quarters. “You know me; I could always use some more fresh air. I’m tired of wandering around in a spaceship.”

The Commander was about to respond when he took note of just what the hell the other soldiers under his command were up to and he shook his head, rubbing a hand down his face. “You have _got_ to be kidding me.” he muttered.

Artemis, Jun, and Emile were all locked in a handstand – all attempting to balance on just _one_ hand – and Jorge was examining a stopwatch; probably timing how long the three SPARTANs could hold the kick up for.

“Four and a half seconds,” Jorge announced the moment Emile fell over from the distraction of the two higher-ranking SPARTANs entering the room. “Not bad considering you don’t seem to be able to keep your balance.”

“Damn,” the assault specialist shook his head, and then offered Nobles One and Two a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ey boss. So uh...training, you know? Core strength and all that.”

Carter snorted and crossed his arms over his chest, scrutinizing the forms of the other two soldiers. It seemed that Jun was the more composed; Artemis looked like she was struggling to maintain the one-handed, upside-down position. “Looks like you’re just messing around to me.”

“Naw, well, what can I say? The head rush is worth it. Plus it’s kinda fun to see if I can beat the others.” Noble Four shrugged, leaning against the wall behind him. “A little competition is supposed to be healthy every once in awhile.”

There was a thud as Artemis fell over, and Jorge announced, “Three minutes and thirty-five seconds. You did pretty well, Six.” The SPARTAN-II helped the other soldier to her feet, and both of them watched Jun, checking for any signs of him falling over anytime soon. However, the sniper was utterly composed, and it seemed like he would be able to hold that position for quite some time.

Noble One cleared his throat impatiently, staring at Noble Three with his eyes narrowed. The aforementioned soldier did not fall as his teammates had done; instead, he very calmly righted himself and stood at attention until the Commander told him to stand down.

“Enough games, Noble – we have work to do. We need to figure out where we’re gonna get help from – and try _not_ to alert the Covenant to our location in the process.”

* * *

So, the decision had been made. Whilst they could not call for help in this long-abandoned system, they _could_ – with the utmost precaution and security measures in place – make a jump to the nearest system, which still _hopefully_ had human-occupied planets. There, they would first scope out the area, and if the Covenant had not followed them, they would land on one of the planets and try to get into contact with the UNSC.

It was a loose plan, and there were many things that could go wrong, but it was the best they could produce on such short notice. With fuel supplies rapidly running down, and the MREs and canteens of water their only sources of food and drink...they needed to get to UNSC-occupied space as soon as they possibly could if they wanted to survive.


	6. There's No Place Like Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps the home planet of two of the team might be a good place to use as a home base, right? Well, just so long as they're not too disturbed by the memories that are invoked...
> 
> And Kat has an encounter with some ghosts of her past...

Carter’s eyes snapped open in the darkness, having awoken from the sound of soft breaths nearby. He felt more than saw Artemis perched on the edge of the bed; once his night vision kicked in; he was just able to make out her blurry form above him. “What’s up, lone wolf?” he asked quietly, propping himself up on his elbows.

Originally, the term “lone wolf” had been nothing more than a badge...and that badge had belonged to a person who was at first almost resented by the rest of the team. But over time, the term had actually stuck, and so it became a nickname that only those within the team had ever called the SPARTAN-III. It was a term of fondness, now.

“...It never gets any easier, does it?” Artemis responded with a question of her own. She heaved a sigh, and he saw her shoulders slump with the motion. “I just...I never thought...with all I’ve  seen....sometimes I believe I don’t deserve _any_ of this.”

“Hey. Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself.” Carter shifted to sit fully upright, and he grasped her shoulder in a firm gesture of comfort and support. “I’ve been down that road before, and it isn’t pretty. Please, don’t fall down that same path.” So long ago now, he had been caught up in a whirlwind of self-loathing and doubt and confusion, and it would have perhaps never ended if not for Kat’s unwavering loyalty, and her brutally honest opinion on what was going on with him.

Only his best friend had been able to pull him out of _that_ fire.

He could see Artemis tumbling down the very same road – he envisioned it, and hated it – and he wanted to do all he could to protect her from that kind of fate.

She was his friend, and she had come back for him when she could have easily left him to die – and at the risk of failing a priority mission, too. He felt like he owed her, and yet, he did not – it was a strange way of thinking, but one that made sense in the long run.

“I don’t-” The lone wolf began to protest, but she must have thought the better of it, because she shook her head, glancing down at the floor. “...thankyou, Carter,” her voice came out as barely more than a whisper, and she sounded slightly shy about it.

“What are friends for?” The Commander returned gently, giving her shoulder a squeeze. “Like I said, I’m here for you whenever you need me. Same as the rest of the team.”

It went beyond him being team leader, now; it had done so ever since WINTER CONTINGENCY had come into effect. They weren’t just his team anymore; they were his _family_ , and he would die if it meant that they were safe.

“I don’t know what I would do without any of you guys. I don’t know where I’d be... nor _who_ I’d be.” Artemis confessed in a whisper, breaking into Noble One’s train of thought.

He had to acknowledge the fact that he thought the same way – and no wonder. In training, he had always been told that SPARTANs had to take care of their own – no man left behind – but it was not just that anymore. They were a family, and that was something that the supersoldiers had learned and adapted to on their own. It changed them for the better – their teamwork was far improved than when Noble Team had first been assembled.

Artemis shuddered as if shaking off bad thoughts, and swung her head in his direction once more. “Can I...?” She seemed hesitant; unsure.

He knew what she was going to ask before the words even left her mouth. Funny how that happened sometimes.

“Sure.” He shuffled over to give her room, and allowed her to lay her head on his chest again. It was a strange sensation; he was still getting used to the idea of being ... tactile. Yes, he was used to having his personal space invaded, but not quite like this. It actually felt...kinda nice, now that he thought about it properly. It was as if having someone else so close...it felt like it was easier for him to protect them, that way.

“You’re a good man, Carter, and one hell of a leader. I’m proud to fight by your side; under your command. Glad I can...call you...friend.” Six’s voice was barely above a whisper as she spoke, but he heard it well enough.

Noble One felt a strange warmth in his chest when the other SPARTAN-III told him that. He felt...happy. Huh. So the thing about “SPARTANs never feel” was wrong, by far. He felt more than he had ever done in a long time...he felt... _alive_.

 By the time he actually thought to say “thanks, kid”, Artemis was already fast asleep.

He stared up at the ceiling, mulling over her words for perhaps another hour or so more, and then he gradually drifted off to sleep himself.

* * *

UNSC _Stalwart Dawn_ , drifting close to New Harmony, unknown system, December 26th, 2552

“Where are we?” Artemis inquired, staring out the window as the ship pulled in closer to the planet. All of Noble Team was gathered in a viewing room just beyond the ship’s bridge; a discussion having previously been underway now abandoned at the sight of the world.

“Home,” Kat said quietly, and a smile crossed her lips; but a sad smile, melancholy.

Even Jun – chatterbox that he was – was more subdued at the sight of this place. Memories were being invoked for him, too, it seemed. “New Harmony,” he clarified at Carter’s questioning look.

_Ah, yes. The home planet of Nobles Two and Three. Covenant tried to cause mayhem here, but the UNSC defeated them – though I think not without the loss of Monastir. This place is probably still under the watchful eye of the UNSC...that’s a good sign._

They had wound up drifting outside the planet after making their second slipspace jump – not an emergency one, thankfully – and had cut off the engines to conserve fuel lest they need to get away quickly again whilst they worked out where they were.

Somewhere good, it seemed.

Six studied the team; saw the tiredness on their faces...and the hope in their Commander’s eyes. Perhaps here...they would finally be able to call for help and get the Covenant bastards off their backs...resupply themselves and maybe even take a break. Surely there was something they could do besides wandering in space. Emile was itching for action – he wanted alien blood spilled. He wanted them to pay for what they had done to Reach, and more importantly, what they had done to the team.

As it was, now, the assault specialist had rather all-too-eagerly taken to scratching marks on the walls of their quarters. It didn’t really help the ship any, but nobody bothered to stop the guy – they didn’t want to wind up missing an eye or a finger if they told him no. He was missing combat, and it was all he could do to alleviate that.

Artemis shook her head and banished the rest of her thoughts, instead wisely deciding to tune back into the conversation that the team had picked up again.

“It’s your call, Kat.” Carter was saying, and the lone wolf found that rather interesting...he _never_ deferred to any of them to take charge...at least not in situations like this one. But then again, things _were_ different – maybe it wasn’t so unusual after all.

“I say we go down and have a look. There might not be much, but...” Kat shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

* * *

Outskirts of Monastir, New Harmony, unknown system, December 27th, 2552

“Two, you take point – you know this place better than anyone. Three, you’re second-in-charge.” Carter stated as he doffed his helmet, walking down the ramp of the Pelican, Noble Team following. “If you have any questions, they go to Kat and Jun. Don’t come to me on this one.”

Again, Artemis found that curious...Carter _never_ told anyone else to take charge ahead of him – nor did he ever tell them to _not_ look to him for leadership guidance. Strange.

But then again, Nobles Two and Three _did_ know the place better than him, so it made sense.

With a few hand gestures and signals, Kat gathered the team into formation – she and Carter were up ahead, Emile and Artemis checked their three and nine o’clock, Jorge had their six, and Jun watched over them from the shadows high above whenever he could.

She told them it was better to keep their helmets on for now in case they ran into trouble, but to also ask questions first, and _then_ shoot – usually, it was the other way around, but she told him that that kind of thing just wouldn’t do here. _They_ were just the visitors here, and who knew if there were any kind of trigger-happy militia groups out there, just waiting to take down a handful of SPARTANs at even the smallest hint of trouble?

As one, they moved out, keeping careful watch of their surroundings. Who knew what kinds of people lived out here?

* * *

“It’s changed,” Kat remarked quietly, and Jun made some kind of noise of agreement. Two looked out toward the city beyond them, the “crown jewel” only recently restored to its former glory, and then glanced behind her at the team.

They’d made quite some headway since landing here nearly three hours ago now, and they were gradually coming into view of the city itself. That was when Kat stopped them, having decided to split the group up – to send one ahead of them into the city, and for one to stay back here and explore the outskirts further.

“Nobles Three, Four, Five; you are Recon Alpha – move on to the city centre. Commandeer a vehicle if you can; it’s a long walk still. One, Six, you’re with me – we’re Recon Bravo. Keep close, and stay alert. Don’t get sloppy just because you’re no longer walking, Recon Alpha. We’ve come this far and not gathered any attention...I don’t want that to change. Understood?” She looked around at Noble Team, seeing the five green winks of affirmation on her HUD.

“Good. Now go.” she stated succinctly, hand momentarily straying to her pistol before thinking the better of it as she lead Recon Bravo southwest at a slow jog.

It was strange to see the town so ... quiet. Hardly a vehicle in sight and no civilian pedestrians about, either. What was going on?

Kat felt unnerved at the utter emptiness of her home town. It was as if someone had _known_ the SPARTANs were coming, and told the residents to stay indoors. And yet she didn’t even feel like they were being watched from _inside_ the houses they passed, either. Something felt seriously wrong here, and they needed to figure it out, quick.

There was no chatter from the others of Recon Bravo, and she knew that Recon Alpha had switched their TEAMCOM frequency – those three were the most talkative of Noble and probably didn’t want to distract Bravo as they yakked and passed observations amongst themselves.

And so of course, the lack of voices from her teammates only added to her unnerved state – though it wasn’t like she knew what to say to Recon Bravo. It wasn’t like Carter or Artemis had much questions to ask, either. They usually discovered facts by observing in silence, rather than asking and learning.

Feeling the odd sensation of familiarity, Kat scanned her surroundings to double check, and she felt like she ... _knew_ ... the street they were on. And not just “knew” as in “I’ve been here before”, but “knew” as in “she knew the place like the back of her hand”.

Slowly, cautiously, she made her way down the road, getting the impression that an invisible magnet was drawing her ever closer to the house at the very end.

Kat glanced over her shoulder at the two silently following her, and she signalled to Carter that she was unnerved, but not to the point where she would be compromised if a battle arose. He nodded curtly, and gestured back that she should continue; that he would have her back if she became more unnerved.

She hesitated for a few minutes at the front door to the house she’d been drawn to, before shaking her head to clear it and keying in a code that was more muscle memory than anything else.

The door unlocked – unusual – and she slipped inside, checking the motion tracker on her HUD, before moving ahead with Carter flanking her, Magnums at the ready; she didn’t have to check to be aware of the fact that Artemis was walking backwards behind them, covering their six. She _knew_ this place like she _knew_ the street – but from where, she could not recall. Nothing came to mind as she sifted through her memories of Before...still nothing.

Shaking her head again, Kat holstered her Magnum and wordlessly Carter did the same; he didn’t even signal to her any form of confusion as she stepped into the first room she came across. Noble Two lingered momentarily before heading into the room, the Commander following her like a ghost; Artemis remained in the in the doorway, looking into the hall.

The room was a child’s bedroom, that much was clear to see, but why did she get the feeling that she knew that she was where she had once belonged?

She was thankful that Carter was an observant leader, but even then, she jumped when he placed his hand on her shoulder, having noticed some kind of distress emanating from the cryptanalyst. She jerked her head to face him, and even from under his gold visor, she knew he was giving her a reassuring look; his stance alone told her that.

“Where are we, Two? You remember something, don’t you.” The question was phrased rhetorically – there was no point answering something that he already knew.

“I-” Kat paused in her words, furrowing her brows as she recalled a memory to the forefront of her mind; her shoulders slumped and chin tilted downwards. “My ... bedroom.”

“Two?” The Commander expected her to clarify her answer, but Kat never said a word; the footsteps and loud voices which were _not_ those of Recon Alpha had Noble Two pressing past the other members of Recon Bravo, Magnum drawn, maintaining a battle ready stance.

Tilting her head as she eavesdropped, Kat raised her hand and gestured for One and Six to lower their weapons as she did the same; she then pulled her helmet off and tucked it under her arm.

Signalling for the two to stay behind her, yet out of sight, she stepped out into the hallway, and walked into the lounge room.

What she saw had her eyes widening in surprise, and her heart gave a painful jolt of familiarity.

_No, that can’t be right. I thought – my family should be dead. How-?_

The two civilians had simply frozen at the sight of the cyan-armoured SPARTAN-III, but the young woman in the wheelchair had tears glistening in her eyes.

“Catherine?”


	7. Questions & Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Kat and her younger sister catch up on old times. Meanwhile, the other three are having a time of it, trying to find a Warthog...

_She hadn’t heard that name in_ years _._

The voice, so painfully familiar, brought tears to the cryptanalyst’s own eyes as she nodded, stepping forward some more.

“It’s me, Danika.” she admitted, her words coming out in more of a whoosh of air than a breath.

“I thought you were dead,” both women said in unison, which caused them to both release a slightly pained laugh; Kat then did not hesitate to stride forward and sweep her younger sister up and out of her wheelchair in a slightly-too-tight hug – not that either of them cared.

Noble Two released her sister after a few moments in revelling silence, and placed her down again before stepping back, smiling properly for the first time in years. “It’s so good to see you. How did you survive? The Covenant – those aliens – they were ... _how_?”

A rather rueful smile from Danika told the SPARTAN-III half of what she needed to know without even saying anything. “Uncle Dimitri, who else? You remember that I was staying with him to be closer to the hospital and the school, don’t you? That and because staying with Aunt Magda – you remember she’s a nurse. I guess we were far enough away that when the Covenant attacked the city, we were safe. I haven’t been back here since – I had always thought that it hadn’t survived.”

Here – their childhood home. Where they had grown up together, even though the last couple of years before becoming a SPARTAN was when she saw her sister the least ... after the accident...

Said fact that she was one of those “legendary armoured warriors” must have become painfully obvious when Kat felt her sister’s eyes scrutinizing her; most especially her prosthetic arm. Yet when she spoke again, her voice was gentle and not full of pity – more it was curiosity and concern than anything, and that realization alone was what made Kat’s heart jolt again...she remembered just how close she had been to her younger sister.

“What....happened, Kat?”

The SPARTAN smiled bitterly and shook her head, barely shifting her shoulders in a shrug. “Long story short, those alien freaks shot at me with a fuel rod cannon. I was too close...got caught in the blast and landed wrong. Busted my arm in at least three places.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Those words were genuine, and Kat felt an odd warmth beginning to seep into her chest. “You’re still...?”

“Ambidextrous? Yes. The prosthetic is combat-rated and field-tested...the UNSC only wanted the best for their soldiers.” In one fluid movement, Kat turned into the shadows behind her, unsheathing Carter’s knife from where she knew the holster was on his chest piece, and turned back, flipping the knife in her right hand; tossing and catching it easily.

“See, it’s no problem.” Nonchalant, the cryptanalyst handed the knife back to the Commander, who sheathed it in silence, though she felt his questioning gaze on her.

Her sister must have been able to make out Carter’s shadowy form behind her, because she raised an eyebrow knowingly, and asked in a teasing manner, “Who is he, your boyfriend?”

Noble Two froze slightly, the question catching her off-guard. _What is a boyfriend? Hm. Better to find out later. Better to act like you understood what she said, though._ She gestured for One to step forwards, an amused glint in her eyes. “Pff, more like overprotective guard dog older brother.” she retorted, stifling a laugh at the incredulous noise Carter made. She just elbowed him in the ribs, ignoring him when he pointedly cleared his throat.

“Her description _is_ fairly accurate,” the darker blue-armoured SPARTAN admitted, his voice coming out clearer as he took off his helmet. “I’m Commander Carter-A259. I would go so far to assume that you’re Kat’s biological sister?”

“Danika Balmont. Nice to meet someone who can handle my sister’s sass.” The introduction was polite, bordering on curt, but she stuck out her hand, which the Commander shook.

Six also took off her helmet, and dipped her head in a respectful nod, before stating, “I am Lieutenant Artemis-B312 – and one of your sister’s closest friends.”

“We both are,” Carter butted in, looking slightly affronted, and that drew amused smiles from both Kat and Danika.

“So, I assume then you’re all SPARTANs, judging by the oversized suits of armour, the ranks, and the numbers. I thought there weren’t many of you left?”

A solemn shadow flitted over the Commander’s face, and it was gone again before he spoke. “There aren’t,” he informed her, voice grave; perhaps even lined with melancholy. “Your sister and us – we’re half of the only full team of SPARTAN-IIIs left. And technically, we aren’t supposed to exist, unlike the Master Chief and those of his generation...but...” He shrugged. “It no longer matters.”

“I am sorry to hear that. There aren’t enough heroes like you out there – and I don’t mean to sound like most civilians, nor do I mean to over glorify you – and we, the general population, _need_ people like you, whether we realize it or not. Whether we _want_ you protecting us or not.” Kat wondered just what her sister had gone through to cause her to be so ... sombre ... and she remembered that Danika had been through war just as the cryptanalyst had – this was what it was like for the civilians.

“For the longest time, I did wonder how the SPARTANs got so good at what they did – but no longer. ONI showed me enough ... that’s a story for another day.” Danika’s mood changed from sober to cheerful in the blink of an eye, and she inquired, “Kat, surely you remember our old hangouts? I think it’s time we paid them a visit, don’t you?”

Noble Two simply smirked in response.

* * *

“Remind me again why I have to use a SAW instead of my machine gun?” Jorge was quite obviously lamenting the fact that he had to use an M739 Squad Automated Weapon – or SAW – instead of his more-favoured M247H Heavy Machine Gun, which he’d named _Etilka_ ; “noble” in Hungarian. He also was not wearing his Mark IV/LBE-A Field Case; he was now quite able to keep up with, if not outpace, his SPARTAN-III teammates, unless they utilized their sprint modules.

Of course, it wasn’t like the big man to complain, but Jun figured he just missed his gun, and felt pretty naked without it – he felt the same way since he had to use a DMR instead of his sniper rifle. Though the DMR had a scope, it didn’t have the same zoom capabilities as the sniper, and he missed the way the sniper’s rounds would crack through the air before splattering the brains of the enemies on the wall. Not that he was bloodthirsty, mind you, but he always admired the handiwork of a good battle against the Covenant. They all did, really.

“Because,” he explained calmly, “Just as I’m not allowed to use my sniper rifle, and just as Emile mustn’t unsheathe his kukri knife, you cannot use your machine gun because we’re amongst civilians. And I know that you’ve carried your gun amongst civilians before – but we’ve got no intel on civilian life here, and therefore we need to be as inconspicuous as a group of armed and armoured SPARTANs can be.”

“What wouldn’t I give to stick my knife in something right about now,” Emile muttered sulkily, shaking his skull-visored head. “How much further are we gonna walk? I’m sick of hoofing it.”

“The moment we find a Warthog. Since you’ve done nothing but point out each and every individual Mongoose you’ve seen, which isn’t any use because it’s better we use the one vehicle.” Jorge said curtly, locking the SAW onto his back. “And so far, since there’s no ’Hogs about, then we keep walking until we find one. So shut your mouth and put up with it before I tape it shut.”

The Warrant Officer was silent for a few moments, before asking, “....You have _tape_ stored in your armour? Man, who even _does_ that?”

Jorge just shrugged. “Never know when you might need to tape something together. That, and it’s useful for silencing lesser-ranking operatives who _don’t know how to keep their mouths shut_.”

Thankfully his threat worked – either that, or the other man had nothing else to say – because Emile fell silent, and instead swept the area with his shotgun at the ready.

“So, I’m curious...fill me in on how you two managed to survive near-death situations. Oh, and explain to me just how the Commander managed to survive the destruction of his Pelican after ramming it into a Scarab.” This time, Jun was the one to break the silence – only it wasn’t with meaningless, idle conversation, or complaints.

He was genuinely interested to know how the hell Jorge had survived the destruction of not one, but _two_ Covenant vessels, and all the radiation from the explosion. And he wanted to know what had happened to Emile, Carter, and Six after he’d been split up from the three and tasked with defending Dr. Halsey with the assistance of an injured Kat.

“I honestly have no idea how I survived,” again, Jorge shrugged his broad shoulders. “One minute I’m floating about in space – I had put my helmet back on at that point, because I figured if I was alive, I might as well try to _stay_ that way – and the next, all I can see is this bright light, and a Pelican is picking me up. Took me to a frigate that was headed to Reach, and then kindly dropped me off at CASTLE Base.”

“Lucky break,” Jun remarked, shaking his head. It seemed that the sheer tenacity of being a SPARTAN-II was what had saved the Chief Warrant Officer. Either that, or just an uncanny lot of luck, purely well-timed.

Emile was unusually sombre when he gave his own response as to what had happened to him and the Commander during their mission to get the fragment of an AI to the _Pillar of Autumn_ before it fled the planet. “Lemme tell you, it’s not something that I’m willingly repeating here. I mean...I don’t think I’d ever want to relive that day.” He shook his head, and carried on, “I have _never_ seen Carter get as low as he did. It was like he was just...like he was a... spooked Marine, rather than a SPARTAN-III and leader of a team.”

Jorge rubbed his stubble thoughtfully, and then came up with the conclusion that, “So he’s not tired, he’s emotionally drained. But he doesn’t understand that, and he _thinks_ he’s tired, when he’s really not.”

“That _does_ make a decent amount of sense,” Jun agreed quietly, shaking his head. “Too bad there isn’t anything we can do to help. He’ll just have to figure it out on his own.”

“But we can, actually,” the Chief Warrant Officer said firmly, and the look in his eyes meant that he would not allow anyone to argue.

“ _How_?” Emile and Jun asked at the same time.

“All we have to do is take some of the burdens of leadership off his shoulders. But subtly, so that he doesn’t notice. Trust me, I’ve done it before. He can’t manage on his own – no man can.” the SPARTAN-II explained. “It’s not that difficult, and we owe the man that much, at least.”

“S’pose I can’t argue with that logic, and y’all know that I _love_ to argue.” Emile was still unusually solemn. Perhaps what he had seen of the Commander’s behaviour had disturbed him; maybe it even sobered him, changed him.

“That’s the spirit,” the heavy weapons specialist said rather cheerfully, clapping the assault specialist on the shoulder so hard that he actually stumbled, glaring at his companion even though he couldn’t see that underneath the visor.

“Do that again, and there won’t be any more niceness from me,” he said grumpily, swatting at Jorge’s shoulder. “’Cause that _was_ me being nice, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“We have just plainly strayed from the topic.” Jun pointed out, and Emile tossed his head and rolled his eyes, jabbing a thumb in the SPARTAN-II’s direction.

“Blame _him_. You know we always clash on our views. If you’d like, I can get us back on-topic by explaining what happened...?”

“By all means, do,” the sniper said dryly. “Your constant arguing is getting a little tedious...need something else to think and talk about.”

* * *

UNSC shipbreaking yard, Asźod, August 30th, 2552

_“This is nuts,” Emile declared, holstering his shotgun and glancing about him. “I mean, how are we supposed to get off-planet anyway? Board a Covenant vessel and kill everyone aboard and use that? I don’t think so.” He looked over at Carter, who was slumped in a corner, gripping his Magnum a little too weakly._

_The Commander, for his part, had been oddly quiet thus far, not offering much insight into any questions that the Warrant Officer had raised. And that wasn’t good news. It either meant that he was more injured than he was letting on, or something had bothered him psychologically. Emile certainly hoped it wasn’t the latter. Injuries he could deal with just fine, but problems with someone’s head?_

So _not his forté._

 _“Look, man, are you gonna like, say_ anything _? Your silence is kinda disturbing.” Emile crouched down in front of the other SPARTAN, tapping his shoulder. “You’re still alive, right? I mean I can see you breathing and all but you’re so quiet you might as well be dead.” A stupid, dry quip always worked...right?_

_Nope, still nothing. Those blue eyes just blinked at him solemnly, the Commander remaining stubbornly silent. What in slipspace was wrong with him?_

_“Yoo, Commander, you still with me? Are you alright?” Emile snapped his fingers in front of the other man’s face._

_“I’m fine.” Curt, tense, but at least it was_ something _. However, it was also a lie, and that kinda pissed the assault specialist off._

 _“Like hell you are! You have said hardly a word since Six and I saved your ass – even when I’ve asked you a question! What’s really going on with you? Look, I’m not Kat, and I sure as hell ain’t Jorge, but can you at least_ talk _to me? I’m just trying to help!” Emile exclaimed, an undercurrent of anger mixed with concern in his tone._

_“Do you really think this is worth it?”_

_“This what?”_

_“All of this – any of it?” A bitter laugh followed, Carter shaking his head. “Look around you. Reach is lost to us. Humanity’s going to be destroyed. And yet why do we continue to fight for a cause that’s pretty much as worthless as a DMR with no ammo.”_

_Okayyy, definitely messed up in the head then. It was pretty hard not to think it was something else – especially not given the look in the Commander’s eyes. He thought that they couldn’t win this war. And that was saying something. Sure, they’d just lost humanity’s primary military stronghold, and a number of SPARTANs – both Model II and Model III – but the Covenant hadn’t exactly reached Earth. Only_ then _would they have been well and truly screwed. So it didn’t make sense for Carter to be so...unhopeful. What had changed him?_

_What was going on inside his head?_

_That did it. Emile pulled off his helmet, tossing it aside, and glared at his teammate with piercing green eyes. “Seriously, if I could punch some sense into you right now, I would. But since you’re injured, then I’ll be nice and not lay a finger on you. Come on man, what the fuck is wrong with you? You’ve_ never _been this downbeat – not even after we lost Thom. You still held hope that we could win this war, even if yet another highly-skilled SPARTAN had just died trying to fight for something that we thought we were losing.”_

_The older SPARTAN glanced down, staring unseeingly at the Magnum that was clutched limply in his gauntleted hands. “I guess I just...I’ve lost the heart to fight,” he admitted quietly, and Emile could have sworn he heard the other man sniff. “Do you really think that we’d wind up making much difference in the end now that Reach is gone – plus the countless other colonies we’ve lost? Not to mention the fact that I don’t think there’s enough of us left to make a difference even if we tried our hardest. All those good men and women we’ve lost...and all of the SPARTANs.”_

_“Don’t be so hard on yourself, man,” Emile slid down the wall to sit beside his teammate, nudging his shoulder with his own. “I mean sure, things look bleak as hell, but at least_ we’re _all alive. I mean, imagine if any_ more _members of Noble Team were lost. We’d have to rebuild ourselves, as well as help rebuild humanity –_ that’s _more my concern, really. The rebuilding. Always the hardest part. Because it means moving on. Letting go. And it’s...it’s hard. But we’ll get there. I mean, us humans are tough and determined. Always have been. Why would that change now? Yeah, we’re losing. But we haven’t_ lost _. And we won’t, if we try hard enough. You just gotta... keep your head held high, and your priorities straight.”_

 _“You sound_ very _philosophical,” Carter remarked, and Emile snorted derisively, shaking his head._

_“Nah, maybe Jorge’s finally rubbing off on me. That, or maybe my near-death experience changed my outlook on life a little.”_

_“Probably more logical,” the older SPARTAN agreed, and he must have been holding himself upright, because he suddenly began to lean to one side; his strength was running out._

_“Whoa there,” Emile pulled the other soldier upright, and put an arm under his shoulders to support him. “Can’t have you passing out on me, boss. Just gotta hold on for a little longer, alright? Then we’ll get a medic to see to you and get the hell outta dodge.”_


	8. Striking A New Path

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, Noble Team have come to a decision - they will go their own way now.
> 
> P.S. Sorry it's so short, but it's how I wanted this chapter to end!

Present day

“Damn,” was all Jun had to offer on the matter, shaking his head.

“I was right,” Jorge said quietly, pausing to check the state of a Warthog they’d just come across, before clambering onto the turret compartment. “That’s not tired – that’s emotionally drained.”

“Yeah, and now you see why I wasn’t arguing with you when you suggested we help the guy out. I mean, I kinda feel sorry for him. All those SPARTAN-IIIs under his care...and he’s still blaming himself for Thom even though we all know by now that he _chose_ to get the job done.” Emile climbed into the passenger seat of the ’Hog, panning his shotgun about before placing at his feet, upright for easy access. “That’s gotta mess a guy up – supposedly unbreakable augmented soldier or not.”

“Post-Traumatic Stress,” the sniper mused, turning the engine over and exclaiming with relief when the vehicle started. “Ah! That’s more like it. See, now you don’t have to complain about us hoofing it.”

“Man, shut the hell up,” Emile quipped, but it was more of a good-natured jab than a complaint.

“How about you try and make me?” Jun challenged, deliberately reversing hard just to whip his teammate about in the seat.

“Have tape, will use.” Jorge stated plainly, sounding like he was having a time of it regaining his balance since he was standing up, and both younger soldiers shut their mouths immediately. Neither of them wanted to deal with the after-effects of having tape over their faces...it wasn’t pretty. Duct tape was more efficient than the more common sticky tape for a reason.

* * *

Though they never came across any UNSC forces – and nobody of authority, at any rate – they still decided to remain in New Harmony for a few days to a week. It was a chance for them to just relax and regroup; Kat and Jun in particular were happy to give their teammates a nostalgia-filled tour of the homeworld they shared.

It was quite a nice time for the SPARTANs, and they enjoyed themselves considerably, glad to no longer be fighting for their lives.

It might not have been _always_ the best of times – the occasional nightmare or panic attack would do that – but they made do with what they had, and they were all grateful that they still had each other. That was more than enough reason for them to be as happy as augmented soldiers in half-ton suits of super-armour could be.

* * *

UNSC _Stalwart Dawn,_ in atmosphere over New Harmony, unknown system, March 4th, 2553

“So where do we go from here?” Emile was the first to break the silence after they’d learned that the Human-Covenant War had ended, humanity had won – albeit at a great cost – and had formed an alliance with the Elites and an unknown number of Grunts and Hunters, and were now mopping up the last remnants of fanatical members of the splintered Covenant.

“I don’t know. We go where we’re needed, I suppose. But we’ll be under our own orders from now on. No more taking orders from ONI, or the UNSC. Not unless Fleet Admiral Hood himself asks for us will we stand aside and do as bid by authority.” Carter stated, turning to face his team.

“You know what? I second that motion.” Jorge heartily agreed. Artemis and Jun were also quick to go along with this new statement; Kat, however, was still uncertain.

“It’s a fool’s errand...and why would we go against all we’ve known for almost our entire lives?” she questioned.

“We’re not going against _all_ we’ve known – we’ll still be fighting for what’s right, just under our own orders. The Office of Naval Intelligence isn’t to be trusted, and the United Nations Space Command have made one too many tactical mistakes. On top of that, they don’t know we’re still alive, we don’t need the publicity, and, well...what would they do with a full team of SPARTAN-IIIs and one SPARTAN-II? They’d have us pulling black ops missions, and that’s _not_ what we were trained for. We’re soldiers, not agents. And I say it’s high time that we were allowed to think for ourselves. What harm can it do anyway? Between us, we’ve got a _lot_ of years of combat experience and tactical prowess...not to mention the fact that since when have we _ever_ really followed orders?” This last part of the explanation was directed at Kat in particular, and she knew it. The cryptanalyst’s penchant for coming up with plans that were almost directly against rules and regulations was an on-going theme with NOBLE...and perhaps if they ran under nobody’s rules but their own, they could enact such plans more often. After all, the crazier the plan, and the more laws it broke...the more likely it was to succeed. That plainly showed on their track record.

“I’ll follow your lead, just as I’ve always done. You’ve never steered us wrong before, and you won’t do so now.” Kat finally consented, finding it difficult to argue with what was rather sound logic.

“Then it’s settled. From this day forwards, Noble Team works on its own, fighting for humanity as we have always done.” Carter stated with an air of finality to his voice, and the rest of the team murmured agreement.


	9. One Of Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tensions run high as Noble Six begins to suspect that she's not who she thought she was all along...and it'll take the rest of the team some convincing to get her to think otherwise.
> 
> Also, Carter goes into Overprotective Dad Mode™, because he is 100% Done With His Team's Shit™.

Monastir, New Harmony, unknown system, May 24th, 2553

Months had passed since the Human-Covenant War had ended, and Noble Team had declared that they were striking out on their own. So far, things had been fairly quiet, and due to this quiet, they allowed themselves a chance to relax and recuperate...to _heal_. They had made New Harmony their base of operations – since it had not been glassed, and only _partially_ attacked, then it was much easier to begin rebuilding the colony than anywhere else. That, and since two members of the team knew the planet quite well, they had decided that it was best to stick to familiar grounds. The _Stalwart Dawn_ , now fondly nicknamed the _Spilt Coffee -_ for reasons unknown - remained on the surface; this was where the SPARTANs lived, if they were not staying on the surface itself for a few days at a time.

Noble had formed a bond during the fires of war, and now that bond was increasing in strength with each passing day – as they got used to each other, and got to know each other properly. They also conversed often with the crew of the frigate, and even befriended a few of the personnel; Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, Marines, and Army Troopers alike.

Though the occasional problem arose between the UNSC personnel, Noble Team, and the inhabitants of New Harmony, they were often resolved quickly – and before anything could escalate further. Relations were quite stable with the local residents, and there was a sort of...kinship...forming with them – one that would prevent further issues, and also help the two sides to work together lest any outside issues arose and caused them trouble. Of course, since they were out of their armour pretty much all the time now, it made relations easier; they appeared more nonthreatening and human.

It was not always easy, however.

Nightmares were still a common occurrence amongst NOBLE; an unfortunate thing which they knew would not be leaving them anytime soon. They were learning to cope, though, and they were also helping each other out with their individual issues as well.

But of course, there were also good times. As Jun so often said, _gotta take the good with the bad_. And they did; and it strengthened their bonds and brought them closer together.

As close as they were now, there were still _some_ things that they kept from each other.

Such as the truth about who Noble Six _really_ was.

* * *

Monastir, New Harmony, unknown system, May 29th, 2553

The day had started off like any other. Well, aside from the fact that Artemis felt a little more twitchy than usual, but...that wasn’t really all that far off the norm. But something just didn’t feel _right_ to the Lieutenant; something was off.

And she was determined to find out exactly _what_.

She knew that Kat had been hacking deeper into her files; the cryptanalyst had told her so, and had also disclosed what she had found out so far. Yet it felt like she hadn’t been told the full story. It felt like Kat – and even the rest of the team – knew something about her that she didn’t just yet. They were keeping something from her, she was certain.

But what?

“There’s something you guys aren’t telling me.” Artemis declared. She noted the way Emile was side-eyeing her; the way Kat seemed to be warring with herself about telling her something; the way Carter’s hands were twitching at his sides, like he was trying to reach for something that wasn’t there. _Something_ was definitely up, and she was determined to find out exactly _what_ , even if it meant snatching Kat’s datapad out of her hands and searching through the files herself.

“We-” the Commander began, but Kat cut him off with a sharp look, though she never said anything. Artemis grew frustrated with her teammates’ silence and uneasy gazes, and she uttered a low growl in warning.

“What _are you keeping from me_?!” she practically snarled at them, hands curling into fists so tight she could feel the little half moons from where her fingernails dug into her palms. She was tense, way too tense; Jun sent her a placating look, shaking his head at her to warn her not to try anything stupid. Tch, yeah, like _that_ was gonna work. She was all fired up, and they knew full well that it took her a _long_ time to calm down.

What _right_ did they have – her team, her _family_ – to keep things from her? They were _supposed_ to share things – they’d established the rule of no more secret-keeping a long time ago.

And then – it hit her.

“I’m not one of you, am I?” she asked slowly, keeping her tone low and even, though she could _feel_ the current of anger rushing just beneath the surface. “I don’t belong with you, do I? And that’s what you’ve been keeping from me the entire time.”

“Artemis, I don’t think you understand...” Emile began to protest, but immediately backed off when she rounded on him. _When had she gotten to her feet?_

“No, I think I understand _perfectly_ , actually,” she seethed at him, “I understand just _fucking_ perfectly that I’m different from the rest of you! I get it now – I finally understand why you keep changing the way you act around me. Because you’re all _afraid of me._ And don’t you even _begin_ to open your mouth, Kat.” She could see that the Lieutenant Commander was already trying to say something, but she shot her friend down before she could utter a single _sound_. “I know you only befriended me because you needed me to protect you, and you only remained my friend for so long _because you were afraid of what I would do to you if you suddenly gave up on me_.”

Her words rang in the air, sharp and harsh, though she was too blind to see it; too blind to notice that the others had gone deathly quiet.

She didn’t know, then, how much the sting of what was practically a betrayal would hurt. All she knew in that moment was that all she felt was white hot, blinding rage, mixed in with an icy numbness.

She didn’t know, then, how much the sting of what was practically a betrayal would hurt. All she knew in that moment was that all she felt was white hot, blinding rage, mixed in with an icy numbness.

She needed to get out – to think, to do _something_ instead of standing here arguing with her –

Wait.

Since when had she ever hesitated on what she called the team? That wasn’t right. Her head was so _full_ of memories ... those voices in her head were _screaming_ , at her, at each other ... it was all _too much, too fast_ , and she couldn’t –

she had to get out.

Her head was reeling, vision spinning and blurring, and she had to get out, had to escape before she made more of a fool of herself than she’d already had, before she hurt her family further than she had, before – _dontthinkjustrunanddontlookbackdontstoprunningwhateveryoudodontstop –_

She stumbled blindly out of the room, nearly tripping over her helmet along the way, and broke into a wild, pelting sprint that left the base miles behind in a matter of seconds.

Well, she’d always been fast.

* * *

“That was rough,” Emile muttered dispassionately, putting an arm around Kat’s shoulders because the cryptanalyst looked like she was upset, maybe even on the verge of tears. Artemis’ words had hurt them all; they didn’t understand why she’d acted the way she did.

Well, Carter did. Sort of. “She’s hurting enough as it is. If she needs to take it out on us because she has no other choice, then so be it. We shoulder each other’s burdens because we’re family, even if it comes at a cost to us.” he said firmly, though he was having a hard time believing his own words right now. He couldn’t grasp the concept as to _why_ Artemis thought they were afraid of her – none of them could.

None of them had ever shown any signs of fear around her, so what had led her to believe such things in the first place? It just didn’t make sense.

“I understand why she did what she did,” Jorge, cool and calm as ever, remained the voice of reason. “She’s just going through some tough things right now. It only made sense that we kept the true nature of who she is unknown to her, until a more suitable time in which to divest such information. How were we to know that she’s much smarter than she looks, and began to put two and two together and come up with a sum of “there’s something they’re not telling me”?”

Only Jun remained silent and thoughtful, having nothing to say on the matter. He was observing the situation, adding up all of the facts and making sure to factor in potential variables; only then would he give his answer.

“Still doesn’t mean she has to make Kat fucking _cry_. Seriously, how many kinds of fucked up does a person have to be to stoop so low as to hurt their own _family_?” Emile said lowly, speaking through gritted teeth. He pulled the Lieutenant Commander closer into his side and retreated into the sulky silence that was commonplace for him; though he also comforted his fellow SPARTAN by running a hand through her short black hair.

Carter threw up his hands in frustration, knowing that he wasn’t going to change the Warrant Officer’s mind – at least, not for now. “I’m gonna go after her. When we get back, this is _not_ over.” He looked pointedly at the assault specialist, eyes sharp, before striding out of the room.

It just wasn’t fair! Why did Artemis have to cop shit from her teammates when she was already copping enough shit from whatever was going on inside her head? They, of all people, should be able to understand what that was like – at least somewhat!

Growling under his breath in frustration, he commandeered one of the five M274 Mongooses they had on hand – he would _never_ be able to find the lone wolf on foot at this rate – and set off to see if he was able to calm the Lieutenant down.

Thankfully, she hadn’t gone very far – she was sitting on a rockpile situated on a low rise, knees drawn up to her chest and head hanging low.

He parked the ’Goose nearby, jumped off, and set about quietly approaching her; though that turned out not to be such a good idea, as she started a figurative half mile when his hand landed on her shoulder. Her upper half whirled around, fist flying out in a punch which he caught easily. It was then that she finally noticed him; when she met his gaze, he could see the tracks on her cheeks which meant tears, and the watery, red eyes.

“You-” she started, but stopped, took a deep breath, and wiped at her eyes. “I-” She shook her head and looked away, rather oblivious to the fact that her arm was still in midair, her fist caught in his hand. “Why are you here?” she finally muttered tightly, glancing up at him again. She was clearly having a time of it keeping her emotions at bay.

“You know why.”

“Yet even after what I did, you come here. To – what? Apologize? Ask for my forgiveness?” He winced at the darkness in her tone – _why does she have to be angry with_ me _when I’m only here to help and she damn well knows_ – and felt his heart crack, just a little, when she tore her gaze away, yanking her hand free of his.

“I came here to help. Because I care about you.”

A laugh escaped her then, bitter and harsh and filled with none of the happiness he’d heard coming from her before – so long ago, now. “Do you?”

“Look.” Carter shifted to sit down, elbows resting on his knees. “I won’t lie to you – you hurt all of us. Pretty bad.”

“How bad?” Artemis interrupted, and the Commander grimaced and shook his head.

“Kat was close to tears. Emile’s pissed, though that’s not uncommon.” he admitted.

“Because of _me_. Because of what _I_ did. Because I can’t fucking control these voices inside my fucking head, screaming at me, at each other – at you even though you can’t hear them. All this – all this noise, and I can’t ... sometimes I can’t even hear myself _think_ due to how loud it gets up here.” Artemis tapped the side of her head, before staring vacantly at her MJOLNIR-encased feet.

Okay, now he’d had enough. “Can you just – can you just stop with the self-loathing and listen for like, five fucking minutes?” he said, unable to hide the exasperation in his tone.

Artemis jerked away at his words, but bobbed her head in consent; she still did not meet his gaze. That probably hurt worse than the self-loathing did.

“I – we didn’t want to tell you who you are, and what was done to you, because you were already suffering enough as it was. We wanted to wait for a time when you were more...mentally stable ... before telling you. But we didn’t expect you to get so much _worse_ , and we didn’t – we didn’t think you’d be starting to put two and two together and come up with what you did. Our mistake, I suppose. That’s on _us_ , Artemis. None of us are perfect. We’re just a – just a mess of crazy people when we’re apart, but together, we’re _so much more_. We’re a family, a screwed-up, half-together family...but _family_ nonetheless. And we’re supposed to always be there for each other; share each other’s burdens. Because that’s what a family does. You of all people know that.” Carter explained quietly.

Only when he’d gone quiet again did she swing her head around to look at him, and he almost wished she’d hadn’t – the pain in her eyes was something he almost couldn’t bear.

“After I lost my parents, I kept thinking...kept thinking that I would never get another family again. And when I did, I was so afraid of losing them. I know that you all feel the same, but for me it’s...ONI’s been chasing after me all my life and I never knew why. Still don’t. I just...I always get the feeling that it’s _them_ that’s gonna take my family from me – not the war, not some training mishap or anything...but that ONI’s gonna be the ones to take my family from me, and I’ll never be able to see them again, even though they’ll be alive. And that’s just – that’s what I’ve been struggling to live with for _my entire life_...since I became a SPARTAN.”

“Kid, I ... I’m sorry, for whatever it’s worth.” the Commander offered sympathetically, and the Lieutenant glanced away again, though she spoke as she did, lips barely moving around the words.

“Shouldn’t be.”

“I do. Because I care.”

Artemis set her jaw – though whether in determination, frustration, or to keep tears at bay, he couldn’t tell – and looked back over at him again, shoulders drooping. “Damn you,” she muttered tightly, and yeah, there was the confirmation – she was trying to keep tears at bay.

“Damn you,” she said again, voice coming this time as a low rasp. She rose to her feet and he rose with her, though when Carter made to reach for her, she moved away and began to pace. “ _Damn you_!”

She whirled, red hair fanning out behind her as she rounded on him, and he got a few seconds to glimpse her angered, tear-streaked face before she launched herself at him and nearly brought him to the ground. He staggered and braced himself for an attack, but was surprised when instead she latched onto him like she needed the contact; buried her face into his chest and started crying.

Though hugs were still a little awkward for him, he was starting to get a little... _fond_ of the warm feeling that he got whenever he hugged someone. It was nice; felt like home. He patted Artemis on the back, and she held him tighter – _was that even possible at this point?_ – whilst she made an effort to quiet herself. She began to sink to the ground, knees buckling, and he went with her – _he’d always have her back, no matter the way, shape or form_ – holding her close as she sat down on the rocks again. Gradually she grew silent, though her grip did not loosen in the slightest; she was using him as an anchor. He didn’t mind...if she needed to be comforted in such a way, then so be it. He’d put up with it, not uttering a word of complaint.

It was only after fifteen minutes that her grip began to loosen, and then she let go of him entirely; he still kept his arms around her as she curled up in his arms, remaining as close to him as she physically could. He rested one cheek against the top of her head and just _held her_ , content to be silent since that was what she needed.

Artemis mumbled something under her breath and uttered a shuddery sigh, muscles finally relaxing. Good – it meant that he’d done what he’d achieved to do.

“Carter?”

“Mm?”

“Thanks.”

“S’ok, kiddo.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“Pff, you’re 20 years to my 32. Try again.”

“Don’t make me hit you upside the head.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“Go right ahead.”

“Was that a challenge?”

“Damn right.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” She did whack him upside the head – he just whacked her right back, chuckling softly at the half-hearted glare she shot him; though it was comical because she’d also stuck her lower lip out in a pout, and if _that_ wasn’t the most childish thing he’d _ever_ seen.

“That’s immature,” he chided teasingly, and she rolled her eyes, curling one hand into a fist in a mocking warning.

“Don’t make me slug you harder, ’cause I’ll do it, smartass.”

“Wanna make a bet?”

Artemis just huffed out a laugh and glanced away; when her body language indicated that she wanted space, he let her go and she rose to her feet, offering a hand to help him up, which he took. The two SPARTANs stood shoulder-to-shoulder, staring out at the vast landscape beyond, silence over taking them once more. This time, though, it was more of a comfortable silence than last time...he was sure that the Lieutenant beside him was peaceful now – or at least moreso than she’d been before.

That blissful quiet was soon interrupted by the growling engine of an approaching Warthog; it then screeched to a halt, and the pair was joined by the rest of the team. Carter noticed that Artemis was shying away, nothing but shame in her eyes and body language, and he shot the others a warning, pleading look; _go easy on her_. He nudged the Lieutenant forward, and kept one hand on her shoulder, both to try and keep her from bolting, and also to say _I’m with you_.

“Guys, I-I’m sorry. That wasn’t right of me to do that...I’m just...sorting through all the shit in my head – there’s all these voices and stuff – and it’s messing me up...and I took that out on you, which I had no right to. So I’m sorry for that.” The redhead tore her gaze away quickly, and he could feel her muscles trembling beneath his hand; she was either bracing herself to flee, or scared of what they might say to her.

“We forgive ya, kid. It’s not like we’re all dealing with our own demons here. Yours are just of a different breed to ours; so it’s understandable if you’re a little twitchy.” Emile was the first one to say anything, his green eyes showing gentleness that was not evident in his tone of voice.

“Besides, you _are_ one of us. Being twitchy is to be expected.” Jun added with a smirk, folding his arms over his chest and leaning against the tail of the ’Hog.

Kat never said a word, just hugged Artemis tight; the lone wolf hugged her back equally as tight. What words were needed between friends who already had an unbreakable bond? Body language alone was enough; they apologized by actions rather than words.


	10. Galaxy's Greatest Heroes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...have earned some R &R. 'Nuff said.

“So, did you manage to tell her?” Kat questioned Carter hours later, when all of the team were back aboard the frigate; everyone was fast asleep save for the two of them. The team leader glanced over to where Artemis was curled up with Emile, and heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to do so. He still didn’t think the time was right...which meant that they’d carry that dark, dangerous secret for a lot longer.

“I’ll take that as a no, then,” the cryptanalyst self-concluded, shaking her head at him. “You have _got_ to tell her sometime. Before one of us does, and you wind up feeling guilty since I know you think that that’s your job.”

“I know. It just – she was hurting enough as it was, and I didn’t wanna make that any worse.”

“Please tell me that you’ll let her know soon, Carter.”

“Alright. I will.”

Both SPARTANs glanced out the window when they heard the unmistakable sound of rain pattering down on the metal hull of the ship. It was right at that moment that Artemis stirred awake, and when she became more aware, there was a childlike gleam in her eyes. “Oh! Rain!” She got off the bed and tugged on a sleepy Emile’s wrist. “Come on, you lazy ass. Same goes for the lot of you. Let’s go outside and enjoy the rain. It’s nice, and we might not get an opportunity like this for some time.”

“Did we just – did we wind up with an oversized puppy on our team or something?” the assault specialist grumbled, even now sounding half-asleep as he allowed the lone wolf to drag him to his feet and toward the door. “I’m sure we had a highly-trained hyper-lethal soldier assigned to us. How did we end up with a giant puppy instead?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea.” Jorge remarked with a shake of his head. “Maybe it’s just part of her lone wolf persona?”

“That’s taking it too literally; I don’t think so, somehow.” Jun rubbed at his bleary eyes, sitting upright. “It’s probably something else.”

“Bullshit,” Emile said, though the faked cough he released didn’t quite cover up the word, rolling his eyes at the sniper before he was dragged outside.

* * *

“It’s so nice out here!” Artemis’ eyes were sparkling, and though her hair was wet and hanging to her face, she did not care. She backflipped on the wet dirt, just because she could, and straightened up with a small burst of laughter. “Isn’t it neat how for once we can feel the rain on our bare skin, instead of listening to it _tink_ and _plink_ on our suits?”

“Gotta admit, I see sense in her line of thinking,” Jorge stated quietly to Carter, who gave an amused scoff in response, folding his arms over his chest. The only one who didn’t seem so overjoyed about the whole situation was Jun; he was lamenting the fact that he had been coerced into it almost more than Emile, and that he was getting wet. He’d never really liked rain when he was growing up, and he didn’t now.

“I have missed rain. Never got much when we were growing up; we lived in one of the drier parts of Biko.” the team leader confessed, glancing up at the sky. “Safe to say, I agree.”

“Rained a lot where I lived. It was nice. Me and my brothers would get out and just run around like a bunch of idiots. Was good fun.” the SPARTAN-II stated, a nostalgic expression on his features.

“How many brothers you have?”

“Two. One younger by three years; one older by a year. We got up to some mischief from time to time, but mostly we were good, well-behaved kids. How we were raised, I suppose.”

“Sounded like a good childhood. It was only myself and my younger brother, growing up. He’d be Jun’s age by now...though I don’t know if he’s alive or not. Haven’t heard from him since...well, you know. Since I was recruited to be part of the SPARTAN-III program. I have a feeling he’s out there somewhere. He was always the smart one, out of the two of us. Me? I was the athletic one.”

Jorge chuckled quietly, shaking his head. “Kind of obvious that you were the athletic one. And the headstrong leader too, I’m guessing?”

“Got it in one.” Carter affirmed, his eyes drifting to track the rest of the team as they ran about in the rain, behaving like a bunch of excited children. It was rather amusing to see – a bunch of big-ass soldiers running around, doing backflips and cartwheels and whatnot in the mud.

But then, that was just the life of this particular lot of SPARTANs, now. Their childhoods had been ripped from them, and thus they were doing everything in their power to regain what they’d lost. Even if it looked funny and awkward, not a single one of them cared. They were just...happy to be happy. Glad that they were all together; that they had all survived one of the bloodiest wars in human history.

* * *

Thunderstorms seemed to be fairly typical weather for New Harmony in the fall. They were loud, violent, and short – and never seemed to do much except leave the ground soaking wet and maybe a few tree branches across the way here and t here. However, as the year moved closer to winter, every now and then, there would be a longer, wilder thunderstorm. Such as the one currently taking place; the one into which Emile had decided to vanish a couple of hours ago. The others were starting to get worried. It was dangerous to be out there like this – what if a branch fell off and hit him on the head and nobody found him until hours later? Or – well, they didn’t want to think about the _what ifs_. That never got anybody anywhere.

“Don’t you think that one of us should go looking for him? It’s too dangerous to be out there.” Jorge questioned, staring out into the darkness that lay beyond the frigate.

“It’s too dangerous to go looking,” Jun pointed out, not looking up from the book he was reading. “Who would even _think_ to go search in that kind of weather? Not me, that’s for sure.”

“I’ll go,” Artemis volunteered, getting to her feet. “I know how to lose one’s self in a storm, and I know how to find others in near-total darkness. Plus weather like that doesn’t scare me. And I’m fast. I can move from cover to cover quickly.”

Kat cast a worried glance her way, but made no move to stop the redhead, who was already halfway out the door. “Just be careful out there, alright? I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Always am, Sis.” Artemis responded, glancing once over her shoulder before the door slid shut behind her.

* * *

The lone wolf trudged through the darkness, keen eyes picking out each and every landmark she came across so that if she ever lost her way, she would know when and where she was approaching someplace familiar. She didn’t call for Emile, because if he was having a hard time in his head, then she knew it would make him harder to find. Instead, she searched silently, tracking the wet footprints he’d left in the mud which soon vanished, leaving her with nothing. That didn’t stop her from searching, however.

She had to find her SPARTAN brother. _Never leave a man behind_ was the team’s motto, and she wasn’t about to let him down. Not now, not ever.

She narrowed her eyes and scanned the area around her, finding it a lot easier to see when lightning forked the sky above like liquid fire, lighting up her surroundings. Even as brief as it was, the image was imprinted on her mind, and she would have been able to tell if anything had changed. Something shadowy moved ahead of her, and in a brilliant burst of speed she darted forward, one hand grasping a rather solid shoulder.

 _Emile_.

“What’re you doing all the way out here in _this_ kind of weather, huh?” she asked wryly, stifling her laughter when the other SPARTAN gave a jerk that indicated he was startled. “Caught you by surprise, did I?”

“Shut up,” the assault specialist mumbled, swiping his shaggy hair out of his eyes. “What’re you doing here yourself? I’m surprised the others even let you go.”

“Little wild weather never scared me. And I figure that you probably shouldn’t be alone out here. Y’know, in case something happened to you. Nobody protested my leaving; they’re all either too worried or too tired or just can’t be bothered.”

“Just kinda...messy in my head. You know how it is. Sit with me for a bit, kid; enjoy this weather that’s as nuts as I am.” Emile plonked himself on the hard ground, and patted the spot beside him.

The lone wolf gave a quiet laugh and rolled her eyes good-naturedly though the other could scarcely see it, and seated herself beside him, drawing her legs up to her chest. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“Too many things at once.” the Warrant Officer stated flippantly, focusing his gaze onto the flickering sky above them.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Artemis quipped wryly, shaking her head before resting it on his shoulder. It was pretty nice out here; one had to admit, even though there _was_ the danger of a branch or whatever being blown at them thanks to the wild wind. But, well...maybe it was worth it. Because the peace the two SPARTANs felt even as the storm raged around them...it was something they sorely needed.

Nothing said _galaxy’s greatest heroes need some R &R too _as much as this. 


	11. Blood & Rust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm _back_ , bitches! Muse had kicked me in the teeth for a long time and also I was wholly absorbed in roleplaying, but I have finally crafted a new chapter! This one is a bit longer to make up for my semi-hiatus c':
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy!

In-system above Capella, Alpha Aurigae system, June 2nd, 2553

“So, what was that about us being the greatest heroes of the galaxy and deserving some R&R?” Emile questioned, scraping his knife along another edge of his armour. Putting scratches on the MJOLNIR himself was probably his favourite pastime, aside from spilling Covenant blood.

“Hey, when the galaxy needs our help, we go save it. _Then_ we have some R&R when they _don’t_ need us.” Artemis retorted with a shake of her head.

“She’s right, you know.” Jorge pointed out, to which Emile rolled his eyes; though the others couldn’t see it, his head also rolled with the motion and they knew.  


NOBLE Team were currently sitting in the troop bay of a D77-TC dropship – more commonly known as a “Pelican” – and waiting to be deployed to the surface of Capella, an Outer Colony in the Alpha Aurigae system that had recently come under attack by the Covenant – or, more rather, the Covenant that still upheld the original ideals, and now went under the name of the Storm Covenant. The biggest branch of it did anyway; there were other, smaller Covenant-ideal factions, going under their own names, but the major problem was the Storm Covenant, because they were the strongest in number and arsenal, and were the ones most desperately trying to reform the Covenant.

Apparently they’d been the only UNSC forces close enough to hear about – and attend to – the matter. Which was good for them – meant that ONI wasn’t about and there were less chances of them being found out and sent to who-knows-where, or retired. Or worse.

“Nah, man, you think I didn’t know that already? I was just heckling her about what she’d said to me the other week. Because I can.” the assault specialist rebutted, admiring his handiwork briefly before sliding the kukri back into its sheath on his shoulder pauldron.

The aforementioned SPARTAN scoffed, wagging her head. “It was conjecture. Besides, how was _I_ supposed to know that we were gonna go into battle not long after I said that? I’m not fucking psychic if that’s what you’re thinkin’.”

“Enough,” Carter barked sternly, his electric blue eyes sharp and piercing daggers into the pair of bickering soldiers.

“You scared, Commander?” Emile sounded more teasing than taunting, his own green eyes gleaming with amusement.

“No. I just can’t think with the constant - ... chatter. Too hard to hear my own damn thoughts. I’m working on the best plan of attack here, and you two aren’t helping matters. That sort of thing can be discussed on the way back to the _Stalwart_. Which means you can zip it.” When the assault specialist opened his mouth to argue, the leader narrowed his eyes, and added, “That’s an _order_.”

Emile huffed in annoyance and set his jaw, glancing away, and Artemis rolled her eyes, slipping her Grenadier UA helmet over her head. She had to bite her tongue to keep from telling him that he talked too much; she wanted to have the last word in, but she wasn’t planning on getting in trouble. Thus, she kept quiet and tapped a rhythm on her knee instead. Better to distract herself than to cause the team any issues that weren’t supposed to arise right before a battle.

However, she _did_ open up the text system on her HUD, and shot off a message to the Warrant Officer once he put his own EVA [C] helmet on.

**A: You _do_ talk too much.**

**E: I hate you.**

**A: Naw, no way you could. You like my knife skills too much.**

**E: I’ll give you that one.**

Artemis snickered quietly as Emile conceded defeat, and she glanced at Kat seated beside her, who, as ever, was calm and composed, doing who-knows-what with her personal data pad. “Penny for your thoughts, Sister?” she queried, nudging the blue-armoured SPARTAN in the side of her armour.

“Hm?” Bright blue eyes glanced over to her in questioning, the cryptanalyst swiping a lock of dark chocolate brown hair out of her eyes. “Oh, I’m just tapping into the satellite feeds to see what we’ve got ahead of us. So far it’s fairly quiet, which is surprising, since most of the time, the Covenant are nothing _but_ loud.”

“Weird. Maybe whoever’s running this particular faction is doing things differently. I mean it _is_ one of them hinge-heads, right? That’s what you found out, isn’t it?”

“One of the more troublesome Elites, yes. _Very_ high-ranking, if the chatter I’ve heard is correct, and very dangerous.”

“Why can’t all the noodles be good guys?” Artemis muttered, and she swore black and blue she heard Emile huff a laugh.

**E: Nice one, kid.**

**A: I take pride in my work. And I learned from the best.**

**E: I’m impressed. You know how to give credit where it’s due.**

**C: I told you to be quiet.**

**E: DUDE! Don’t spy on the text channel just to tell me off. Not cool.**

**C: Don’t care. You were given an order: zip it, which means no talking through the text channel either.**

The lone wolf and assault specialist shared a discreet glance – even though both wore their helmets, she knew he was looking at her – and switched to a different text channel to continue their conversation. Yeah, they were going behind their leader’s back. But neither cared at this point in time – they wanted to relax away the pre-mission jitters, and this was how they were going about it.

**E: Ugh. Pain in my ass.**

**A: Careful. He’ll kick your ass for that.**

**C: I can still see what you’re saying.**

**E: GAH! What the _hell!_ We switched channels.**

**C: Muahahahaha.**

“The fuck?” the assault specialist exclaimed aloud, shaking his head in disbelief. “Did you seriously just .... you typed an _evil laugh_? What the _hell_?!”

Artemis heard quiet huffs of laughter from Jun and Jorge, who were quite evidently amusing themselves by listening to the conversation, and reading over the text channel. For them, this was too good. The lone wolf had to admit...this _wasn’t_ what she’d ever expected when she’d been assigned to NOBLE Team. Sure, she hadn’t known _what_ to expect, but certainly not...this. This looseness...the casual manner with which they all interacted with one another...the banter, merciless teasing, and bad jokes.

It felt like _home_.

“You damn right I just did that.” Carter folded his arms across his chest, looking rather proud of his little trick. Almost immediately Artemis understood what he was getting at – he wanted to _startle_ Emile into being quiet.

_What a smartass._

“I – you – evil laugh – _cannot compute!_ ” The assault specialist threw his arms up in frustration, shaking his head again. He said nothing more – and thus it was that Carter’s neat trick had worked.

* * *

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” Emile muttered a good twenty minutes later, when their Pelican was in position above their designated drop point – some seventy-five feet in the air – and the SPARTANs rose, prepping to jump out of the tail once the ramp opened.

“Don’t we all?” Artemis murmured in agreement, bumping her shoulder against his. The pair of them was disturbed about having to make the jump. Sure, the rest of the team were with them, and the dropship wasn’t on fire, and all that, but...that didn’t make either of them any less nervous. Not really, anyway. Trauma did that to a person – even a hardened soldier like a SPARTAN-III.

“Nobody’s crashing any dropships this time. Just jump and head to the NAV point. Nothing we haven’t done numerous times before.” the Commander stated firmly, glancing at both younger SPARTANs before diving out the tail once it was open.

Kat and Jun calmly followed without fuss; Jorge stopped just before the edge, hesitating. “I really don’t know if I should be doing this.”

“Don’t think any of us should be “doing this”. But as the sayin’ goes: what you gotta do, you gotta do.” Emile stepped to the edge, balancing with his arms out in a T-pose, and allowed himself to fall. Even though that wasn’t the correct way to go about jumping out of a dropship, he gave zero fucks about things like that and did it his own way.

“He’s right, y’know. You’re not the only one nervous about this, big guy.” Artemis stated sympathetically, patting Jorge on the chestplate. “Sometimes, though, you just have to do things that you don’t think you can. Man up ... or, no...Spartan up and jump. It’s not so bad once you’re in freefall. Kinda fun.” She bit back a grin, and added, “Try not to scream with fear on the way down, ’cause the others will give you flak if you do.”

“Here goes nothing?” Jorge stated, but it came out as more of a question, and Artemis couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her, before giving him an encouraging nod.

“Go kick ass. I’ll be right behind you.” she assured him, and he heaved a sigh, nodding to himself, and plunged out of the rear of the dropship to join those probably already on the ground.

_Poor guy_ she sympathized mentally, rolling her shoulders before leaping out into the sky.

* * *

Six armoured figures dropped out of the sky, and some of the Marines cheered upon recognizing the newcomers as Spartans. Living legends walked among them; they had a chance, now, to turn the tides to their favour.

Safe to say, until the Spartans had showed up, things weren’t going very well. The Storm Covenant was wiping the floor with the Marines; already, the numbers of the humans had dwindled down to half the amount they had started with. It didn’t help that morale wasn’t very high; they hadn’t had much hope to start with, and them losing so many of their men didn’t help in that regard. Good men had paid the price, and the Covie bastards were closing in on their destination – a heavily populated city, which had not been able to be evacuated before the aliens had arrived; they couldn’t leave now, either, because of the amount of vessels in-system. The fact that the Spartans’ Pelican had made it in atmosphere undetected was a lucky break.

The morale on the aliens’ side changed to drop down rapidly the moment they spotted the contingent of _demons_. Some of the lesser-ranked Grunts threw up their stubby arms and panicked; a few of the Minor Elites grew frustrated; even the couple of Jackals that were there became upset over the fact that, once again, their comrades were breaking ranks and fleeing.

That was all the better for the UNSC forces.

Noble rallied the troops around them, gave them new orders – Carter was the highest-ranked out of everyone remaining – and sent them into the fray with a fresh boost of morale. The Spartans charged right in alongside the Marines, protecting them from the Elites that strafed and dodged most of their attacks, while the Marines took on the Grunts and Jackals. The tides were finally changing to humanity’s favour.

* * *

Artemis dropped a hinge-head with a burst of rounds from her MA37, before rolling to one side to avoid an overcharged plasma bolt from a Grunt that would have drained her shields. Kat took the little bastard down with a pinpoint headshot from her M6G, and turned to the Lieutenant to say something, when a pain-filled scream filled the COMM, causing both Spartans to jerk in surprise.

The steady chattering of Etilka stopped, and Jorge turned to his fellows in confusion. “What the hell was that?”

“Emile. I’d recognize that voice anywhere.” Artemis breathed. It sounded like he was in bad trouble. She loaded a fresh clip into her rifle, and as she did, she gestured at Jorge and Kat to stay there. “I’ll see what he’s up to. If the Commander asks, just tell him.” Without expecting a response, she turned on her heel and ran off, activating her Sprint Module to get there faster.

“Kid’s gonna get herself in trouble.” the Chief Warrant Officer rumbled with a shake of his head, backing up a few paces as Etilka spooled up before spraying the remaining Grunts with 12.7mm rounds. The bastards that were closest wound up torn to pieces; some of them tripped over their fallen comrades and were also taken down, while the rest tried to flee. Of course, the ones that absconded were picked off by Kat, and soon none of the stubby-limbed creatures were left.

Kat’s visor depolarized, and she looked to the older Spartan with a smirk. “She’s always been a handful. But, that’s the way she gets things done. I’ve never met a Spartan as efficient as her, even if it means she gets in trouble.” She pilfered a few plasma grenades, pocketing them into her armour, and continued talking. “She just wants to do the right thing. Always has, right from the very first. In fact, that’s how we became friends. She saw I was in trouble and kicked three boys’ asses to help me out. She was so small back then, but she had an attitude, and she had heart.”

* * *

“Die, you bastard!” Emile growled in frustration, punching the squid-lip in the chest. Damn if the creature didn’t laugh at him in its native tongue, before hauling him into the air by the backplate of his armour. The assault specialist wasn’t happy. His right arm hurt like hell after the alien had yanked his shoulder from his socket before all but crushing it, and he could scarcely feel his fingers. And now, he thought he was going to die. What a fun way to go.

Until the other hinge-heads around him started dropping like flies, neat holes punched in the backs of their heads, or in their throats. _Somebody_ was taking them out neatly with a DMR. _Somebody_ in steel and teal armour, who was stabbing the unaware squid-lip that held him hostage in the back with her Energy Sword.

The Warrant Officer dropped to the ground the moment his assailant did, clutching his arm and gritting his teeth as he swallowed back a wave of pain. His rescuer helped him to his feet, shot the squid-lip point blank in the head, and walked with him back to where the rest of the team were regrouping after the last remaining Covies had been killed.

“What happened?” Carter questioned, glancing over his shoulder as he directed the Marines into the back of the Pelican the Spartans had arrived in. The dropship would come back for them later – the Marines had lost _their_ dropship when the Covenant shot it out of the sky.

“Damn alligator yanked my arm out of its socket before just about crushing my shoulder into dust.” Emile muttered, irritation bleeding into his tone. “The bastard caught me by surprise. I was trying to cut down another one except it kept dancing out of reach.” He grunted and seated himself on a rock, clutching his damaged arm as best he could without causing himself more pain, and looked up towards the sky. “Thanks for savin’ my ass, Eltee.”

Artemis snorted at the nickname, deftly spinning her combat knife in her fingers. “That’s what family’s for, uh? But you’re welcome regardless.”

* * *

Half a day later, they were back at home base – well, if one could call a UNSC frigate sitting on a plateau on a planet previously attacked by the Covenant home base – and Emile was resting up with his damaged arm in a sling after it had been fixed up by the medics aboard the _Stalwart Dawn_.

Artemis was resting with the Warrant Officer, keeping him entertained by showing off what few knife skills she had. He was impressed, and improved her technique by giving her pointers on where she could do better, and what she was doing wrong. It was a good bonding session. The Spartans felt themselves drawing closer to one another, which was nice – the Lieutenant didn’t exactly think she would get along well with someone the likes of Emile, but she was. It helped that they had an affinity for knives as a thing in common.

Until their good mood was dashed by Carter interrupting with the kind of patient expression that betrayed the fact that he was going to have to deliver bad news – in private. Emile waved away her apology, but that didn’t stop the pang of guilt Artemis felt, as well as the hot flush and prickling skin that she always got whenever she knew she was about to hear something that _really_ wasn’t good at all. She just... sensed it coming. She followed the Commander out of the room, fidgeting her hands behind her back, silent, observing the apprehension bleeding from the other Spartan’s posture and general attitude in the way he walked.

Her fellow gestured for her to sit on the couch when they reached what they had deemed the Spartans’ lounge area of the frigate. The Lieutenant perched on the edge, hands clutching at the material of the furniture in nervousness. She fought back a wave of _no bad this is going to be bad you will not like this_ and looked up at the Commander with a questioning gaze.

“Six... Artemis.” The older Spartan’s gaze drifted elsewhere, and he rubbed his jawline in thought. “I don’t really know how to break this to you, but...” He blew out a whoosh of air, electric blue eyes locking onto her sea-coloured orbs. “You’re not going to like it. As much as you have to hear it.”

The redhead felt a spot of discomfort uncurling in her stomach, and she clenched her hands into fists, holding his gaze. _Just be brave. You’re a Spartan and one of the best. It’s nothing you can’t handle. As much as Carter seems to be uncomfortable telling you this._ She lifted her chin in a faint nod, forcing herself to relax. To brace herself for whatever her Commander – teammate and friend – had to tell her. She knew it was about _her_ , that much was for damn sure. Else why would he have told her _away_ from the others?

“Kat was going through your files again... and... well.” Carter cleared his throat, shifted, and plunged on, “You know of Spartan-117 – the Master Chief – don’t you?”

The Lieutenant nodded again, pressing her lips into a line. Of course she knew of him – who among their kind _didn’t_? He’d done a lot for the galaxy, with and without his fellows of Blue Team. But what did this have to do with _her_? It didn’t add up.

The older Spartan licked his lips and shook his head. “You’re... you’re a clone of him, Artemis. The Office of Naval Intelligence took his DNA, his blood, mixed it in with a bit of other DNA, and made you. There were apparently a few others before you, but they failed. When they made you, ONI found you to be the most perfectly viable candidate. They wanted someone to take out the Master Chief if he ever went rogue and replace him, or replace him if he died, and, well... they made you.”

Artemis’ blood turned to ice. She froze, her teammate’s words ringing in her ears, her head reeling. She felt like she was going to pass out; her vision went blurry, though her eyes were focused on a spot in the distance somewhere beyond Carter. She wasn’t even wholly aware of the other Spartan calling her name, gently shaking her by the shoulders and trying to grab her attention. She was just... completely oblivious to it all. She felt numb. Hot and cold all at once. How could it be real?

_Something_ snapped her out of it, and she blinked, shuddered, and locked eyes with Carter once more. “... _How_?” she breathed out, “...I’m... I’m not _real_... I can’t believe...”

“ _Hey_. Don’t say that.” Carter’s expression was fierce. “You’re one of us. You are and always will be. You’ve damn well earned your place alongside us. And damn if that doesn’t make you real. Because you are to all of us. To Kat, who looks at you like you’re her little sister. To Jorge, who is honoured to fight alongside you and call you kin. To Emile, who looks up to you, and who admires your fierceness in combat. To Jun, who is impressed by your skills of stealth, and finds your stories of sneaking around and taking out entire groups of rebels to be some of the best and most entertaining he’s ever heard. And to me. You saved my life, kid. I thought I was a goner but you stayed and waited _on a hunch_. You didn’t let me down. _That’s_ what makes you real. You’ve got a good heart, Artemis. And yeah, you had a hard time with ONI. But we won’t let that happen again – all of us will protect one another. I _promise you this_.”

The redhead’s eyes burned, and she tore her gaze away. “You say that, and yet you know what I am.  A copy. A fake.” Her voice shook and was taut with emotions. “You know that I’ve killed _innocent people_ because ONI wanted no witnesses. You know that I’m a _monster_.”

“That’s _bullshit_ if ever I heard it.” the Commander barked out, and his features contorted into a frown. “Those thoughts in your head? That’s just what ONI did to you. You saved all our lives when you could have continued to fight for humanity. You _nearly died yourself_ after fighting so long and hard to keep the rest of us safe. If that doesn’t make you anything _but_ a monster, then call me a liar because that’s about the damn most human thing I’ve _ever_ seen a Spartan do. None of us have been able to run back and save our fellows. But you did. Because you care about us.”

Artemis trembled and still she kept her gaze elsewhere. She heard the honesty in her tone, heard the fierce defensiveness, and yet she just couldn’t bring herself to believe him. How could she? He’d read her file – all of it – and he knew what she had done. Who she had killed. He knew that she was only a copy – and of a missing-in-action legend at that. How could she even _think_ she could amount to anything? Her brother, the man she was based off... he had set the bar _so high_. How could _anyone_ come even _close_ to doing what he had done? And yet...

“I’m scared,” she whispered, “That I’m not going to be good enough. And I.... I fear failing people. That’s always been my greatest failure. That’s half of why I was terrified of losing you guys; that’s why I fought so hard to save you all. Because ONI beat that into me from day one: _do not fail or you will pay the price_.”

“Geez, kid... And I mean... no amount of _sorry_ is going to fix that many years’ worth of damage. But... for what it _is_ worth, I _am_ sorry.” Carter sounded apologetic about it, genuinely so. Artemis lurched to her feet and wrapped him in a bear hug, grateful; the Commander made some squeak in surprise, but he was more than agreeable about encasing her in a hug in response. Because dammit they were family and family always hugs.


End file.
